My good friend A has an amazing sister with a disability, so she and her family have license plates with handicap decals. Even during her carefree teen years and our collective “I just graduated from college” entitlement-ridden early twenties, A has always been very opposed to abusing this privilege. No matter how much we begged or how adamantly we claimed we were too exhausted to walk from regular spots, she would never park in a handicap space unless her sister was with her. Well, almost never.
One day in late 2003, our other friend L, A and I were going to Quiznos for some delicious sandwiches. Mmm…Quiznos….oh sorry, the melted cheese and toasted bread just speak to me, especially now that they are forbidden. Anyway, we were going to get sandwiches and this particular Quiznos conveniently had roughly three regular public parking spots, all of which were full. We circled and circled but eventually our growling stomachs insisted we eat as soon as possible. L and I became increasingly obnoxious in our attempts to get A to park in one of the million available handicap spots. Eventually, we convinced her that there were plenty of other spots available for disabled folks and that we’d be super quick. In an attempt to mollify A’s guilt and publicly justify our decision, L and I even limped in and out of the store.
Because of A's conviction, I have often found myself glaring at people parking in handicap spots without a visibly disabled passenger. I have assumed they are just being lazy, since obviously a handicapped person is not present. But now that I have my own handicap permit due to a disability that is invisible to the casual bystander, I realize many of my glares were probably unwarranted. Though I don’t park in handicap spots very often anymore, I do still use the permit at work. I figure the more energy I can save for my actual work, the better. I sometimes get looks from passersby as I emerge from my car and appear to be physically healthy. Most of the time I just assume I’m paranoid and carry on, but sometimes I feel compelled to inject a little limp in my stride as I walk into the office. On the really good days, I pretend I’m limping into Quiznos for a delicious Turkey, Ranch and Swiss sub!
