So I'm 75 years old and have recently been diagnosed with a serious lung condition (no sympathy needed or wanted, it is what it is). I've been prescribed oxygen therapy and along with all of this I've been designated as permanently disabled which entitles me to a doctor's approval for a Handicapped Parking Permit. I dutifully went to my Town Office, handed them the doctor's signed application and got that new, shiny blue permit to be hung from my rearview mirror when I parked in a designated spot. You know, the ones we all complain about. Apartment building owners and business owners complain to planning boards about having to provide too many. Vans and buses sometimes park in them as well as those people we all think may be cheating the system in some way. You know who I mean. Those folks we see and a little voice in our head says "he sure doesn't look disabled to me" or "boy, she can move pretty quickly when she wants to", etc.
Well not anymore. I've got mine and I'm going to use it proudly and I really don't care if somebody thinks I'm playing the system. You know, the one that's rigged. Actually, I felt a little lilt in my step as I went to my car, got in and placed the permit in my glove compartment. The rules had been gone over with me and it was made very clear that the permit should only be hung once I parked. Sounds fair.
Yes, the permit was like a coming of age (pretty literally) event that needed to be celebrated. I didn't really get a chance right away but within a few days I had to make a trip to the big city where all of the big box stores are and where I've seen and lusted over those nicely protected spots. Of course a trip like that requires a navigator's check list: oxygen tanks on board, check - reusable shopping bags in back seat, check - water bottle, check - parking permit in glove compartment, check. Everything's AOK. Now all I have to do is back out of the garage.
As I approached my first destination I felt a tinge of excitement. Finally, I was going to get to use one of those special places, the parking space with the blue wheelchair symbol and the yellow stripes. No more door dings. Plenty of room to get in and out. My own little nirvana. Here I go!
I must have waited just a bit too long to get that permit. It turns out all the spaces were taken. We've all aged together and our health must not be so great. Around and around I go in the parking lot, looking for one of the coveted spots and hoping if one comes up I won't have to fight for it. I can see the headline now - "Two Elderly Men Arrested for Fight Over Parking Space". Or worse "Man 75 Takes Designated Parking From Woman By Ramming Car".
Finally a space becomes available. Of course its not as close as I thought it would be and I could still get a door ding on passenger door side of the car but at least there was no fight and no headline. I proudly hang my permit. I've arrived. The rest of you better hurry up though. These spaces are going like hot cakes. But plan ahead and build in some time for circling the lot.
