Yesterday we were on our way back from a family visit and stopped by
pick up a few things. Since those things were for Mr. WW, I stayed in the car.
We had snagged a parking place right in front of the building – the only one in
that row not a handicapped spot. (I wasn’t terribly surprised because I’ve
learned over the years that while I have few, if any, innate talents, I do have
As I sat there waiting, not unlike the family golden retriever, I saw a young man bound out of the building to the giant SUV next to us. He jogged over to his car, sprang into it in one fluid motion, and peeled out.
No handicapped tag.
When his car, so huge that it had blotted the sun from ours, pulled out, it revealed a sedan in the next slot over. Soon a well-dressed woman in perhaps her early fifties tip-tapped out in spike-heeled boots. They went well with her black ski jacket and form-fitting leather pants. She was pushing a cart filled with a double case of bottled water. She pushed the cart to her trunk, opened it, and with no apparent effort at all, lifted and deposited what had to be at least twenty pounds of water. As the piece de resistance before she left, even though she was only four feet from the front of the building, she pushed the cart to the side, effectively blocking anyone wishing to use the parking space next to her.
And yes, you guessed it. No handicapped tag of any kind on her car.