Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Handicapped Parking Isn’t Just For Yuppies Anymore

If the movement of a car could be referred to as having a "stroll", hopefully conveying a privileged nonchalance, then I would have to say that I witnessed a dark-gray Lexus "strolling" into my local coffee-shop’s handicapped parking-spot last week.
Though I was knee-deep in the varied luxuries put forth by the fabulous triple-play of coffee, cigarette and loitering beside my strategically parked car (backed in closest to the exit), I still managed to saunter over by the idling car to see the handicapped-permit sitting on the dashboard.
Fair enough...that is, until a perfectly-capable woman in her mid-forties popped out the car, jauntily hurrying herself inside said coffee-shop. I positioned myself on the sidewalk between the door of the coffee-shop and the Lexus, not blocking anyone from passing through as much as making myself noticeable.
[Loudly, as Woman comes out of coffee-shop and walks towards her car]
Are you handicapped?
[quickly, as if she’s been asked this before]
It’s my husband’s car.
Then why don’t you take the handicapped-permit off your dash? Or, better yet, don’t park in the handicapped parking-spot.
[angry, the woman pushes past me and opens her car door; there is a small but curious pack of patrons watching and listening from the patio; just as this Woman begins to close her door, I point at the passenger side:]
I keyed your car.
[the door shuts with a SLAM! and the Woman sits for a second as the words sink in; enraged, she pops back out and hits me with her purse on the way to check her passenger side; at this point, the patio is laughing as I try to keep a straight face; after the Woman checks and sees that I in no way scratched her car, she looks up to see that the entire patio and I are laughing at her - some patrons even pointing to humiliate her further - and runs around the other side of the car, getting in and almost backing into an SUV that had just entered the parking lot; she finally frees herself from this sticky situation by blasting out onto the road in a hail of screeching tires and anguish, and I turn and give the patio a bow, to great applause]

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