So, I'm going into
an anonymous copy shop (whose name has been
expunged to protect the guilty) the other night, about to take advantage of the fact that I have two very immoral
friends who work there, and have been known, on occasion, to slip me the odd freebie. In recent months an extension of the
Evil Empire has been built next door......
Starbucks. Argh, argh, argh.
And, I can't find a goddamn
parking space. I even tried praying to the marvelous little
parking goddess icon on my dashboard. No love. So you know what I do? I drive around, park my dinky little
compact, and walk up. Coming around the side of the building, I see that a behemoth of a
SUV has parked its fat ass in the
handicapped space. I look. No handicapped tag.
Let me explain something to you. My uncle is a
quadraplegic. He has been for as long as I can remember-the accident was before I was born. He's a wonderful person, a gifted professional, and a great guy. He just happens to have broken his neck 20-some-odd years ago in a
surfing accident.
And yeah, he has handicapped tags on his van. He needs those spaces to be able to go anywhere, especially around
this time of year. Those spaces are put there for a reason, people. Besides the fact that it's illegal, because every business is required, by law, to be
wheelchair accessible, it's just really fucking rude to park there simply because you're too bloody
lazy to find another space.
So, I'm staring at the
gas-guzzling monster, fuming, and who should come out with their incredibly overpriced
cup o' joe, but the driver of that same car? How wonderful.
Me:"Excuse me? Hi, I don't mean to be a bitch about it, but it is kinda rude to park your car there. I mean, what if someone needed that space?"
Woman:"Yeah, someone did. Me."
Me:"Well, you don't have a tag."
Woman:"Who are you, the fucking handicap police? Give me a break!"
Me:"No, I'm not. I just happen to be someone with a little goddamn
courtesy, that's all."
Exit
Bitca,
stage left.
I go in, copy my sheets, shoot the shit with
Suze and
Val, and leave. And lo, who should be out there,
waiting for me, than the obnoxious SUV driver? Who the hell waits 15 minutes just to continue some trifling little feud? This
wackjob, apparently. She follows me down to my car, pulls up behind me, blocking me in, and gets out, red in the face, and starts yelling at me. "Who do you think you are?", etc. etc.
Whatever. I roll my eyes, ignore her, try and avoid getting shot in the back parking lot of a shopping center, and get into my car. Lock the door.
Splat. The bitch threw her coffee at me. 3.29 of oversugared, inflated, pretentious
java streams down my window.