I don't usually have time to type up my stories but today is an exception so here's one from a long time ago:
My SO and I were finally able to go on a trip to see some ruins we'd always wanted to visit. The ruins are extensive and some areas are only accessible via a guided tour to help prevent graffiti and unnecessary touching of the ruins. We were told before the tour that -
A) This tour is challenging. It requires climbing ladders, using steep stairways, and squeezing through tight spaces.
B) Touch nothing. Seriously, don't touch stuff. You can see where people have ignored this rule because they've blackened the surface with their gross hand oils/scum.
At the very start of the tour there are already small-fats that can barely get down the stairs. I don't know how they squeezed through some sections. I could barely fit through them and I'm probably 60lbs lighter than they were. Although I was annoyed by their slow speed and their constant need to grab onto the ruins to balance their muscleless bodies, the tour went pretty smoothly... until the end.
At the end, you have to climb some precarious stairs and then finally a ladder to get out. I'd reached the top of the stairs and noticed that no one was moving. So, I took some pictures of my companion and we chatted a bit. We still weren't moving. I hear this loud wheezing. I look up and realize that some butter huffer is dying trying to make it up what must have only been about a 15ft ladder. It's going up one rung, panting, wheezing, sweating, and just standing there for about a minute before going up the next one. This thing must have only been in its 30s. There are people over 70 on this tour doing just fine (I talked to them in line). I can only imagine that it got to the top and patted itself on its back (j/k, like it could reach) for having accomplished something so amazing.
Thin privilege is being able to use a ladder without making it look and sound like you're climbing Everest with no oxygen tank.