Shame On You Stranger!
Parking in Los Angeles can be a nightmare. Sometimes having a disabled placard helps, but mostly it means nothing because so many placards have been frivolously handed out to the masses. The result? Handicapped parking spots are as hard to come by as regular parking spots, and sometimes harder because there are so few of them. This obviously causes a problem for me. Unlike those lazy people who wrongfully use their grandparents placards, it’s not the front parking I desire. I actually need the extra wheelchair parking space for the ramp that comes attached to my van. Without the space I cannot exit my vehicle. But don’t worry, I’ve come up with a solution to the problem. Upon realizing there’s no available handicapped parking, I park diagonally in two spaces. In an attempt to be courteous, I try to use two spaces furthest away from the front and away from any other cars but sometimes it’s not feasable.
This past Sunday, while attending the Bridal Expo in Pasadena, I was forced to park in two parking spaces in the parking garage because the four spots dedicated for disabled parking were full. After buckling into my seat, I noticed a note underneath the windshield wiper. Luckily, a friend was there to grab it. An intelligent person would know someone in a wheelchair couldn’t reach this particular area, but then I soon realized we weren’t dealing with a smart person at all. The note read:
Shame on you! Thanks for taking up 2 parking spaces. AND park in the handicap spots if you are really handicapped. Your license has been reported.
Yes, this really happened and it isn’t the first time. I have received letters in the past that start with: ‘Hey asshole!’ and ‘Hey piece of shit!’ So this letter in particular was rather pleasant. Still, my friend held the letter in her hand, mouth agape and furious. I laughed. I happen to find these non-love letters hysterical. To think someone was so upset by my parking to take the time to search for a piece of paper and pen, write a nasty note and (as I imagine it) storm over to my vehicle to make their statement known seems so ridiculous. So ridiculous it’s almost flattering. Especially considering if he/she would have taken the extra second to glance in my van while placing the note so carefully for my attention, he/she would have noticed there’s hand controls on the steering wheel and no driver’s seat, which clearly indicates that I, as this stranger questioned, am in fact really handicapped.
“We should wait here to see who wrote this letter,” my friend suggested. “The handwriting looks like a woman’s. I bet she’ll feel terrible when she sees you.”
“Um, clearly she feels terrible already. No normal person would write that note,” I replied. And that’s the truth. Only a bitter ole’ bat would take the time to do something so extraordinary. And what I’d like to know bitter ole’ bat is to whom have you reported my license to? The bad parking police? I’m sure they would pardon the complaint considering the situation. And if my hands worked good enough, I’d want to say to this stranger, I’d tear a piece of paper in half and grab a pen to write my own note in response. It’d read:
Shame on you stranger! I would park in the handicapped section if spots were available but unfortunately the world is filled with too many people who are disabled (or at least too many people that claim they’re disabled). Like you, I get angry in the parking garage sometimes. Although, it’s usually when I see a Corvette or other fancy sports car with T-Tops in the handicapped section because obviously if they can remove their T-Tops, they are not disabled or at least not disabled enough in my humble opinion. Oh what? That’s your Corvette? I’m sorry. You’re poor taste has led you to believe you’re disabled. No wonder you’re so angry. Your life sucks terribly.
Cheers! I’ll try to use three spots next time.