The other day I had a heinous experience at the West End Mickey D's that revolved around someone in a fake Bentley (aka a Chrystler 300) parking half-assedly in a handicapped parking space to where I could not let my ramp down to get inside my vehicle. Even after seeing me fuming and struggling to get in my car, the aptly mobile owners of said fake Bentley walked right past me and then sat in their ill-parked car eating their French fries until I finally had to knock on their window and tell them they were basically being a-holes. This is just a reoccurring theme in the life of Kimmie.
...but rest assured, I am not alone, and when Spashionista over at The Spashionista Report told me she wanted to tackle a similar subject in a guest blog, I was happy to pass the baton. My rage was too fresh, and thus her viewpoint would assuredly be less obscenity laced. [Tangent: Alicia is the lady behind this guest post. Her title of Spastic Fashionista (aka Spashionista) of course intrigued me when a mutual blog friend united us via tweet! We're hoping to become face-to-face friends soon, because she shares my love of label shopping at Goodwill.] I give you Spashionista's take...
Get Out of my Space!
As a transplant to Nashville I can tell you the single best asset the city has is it’s people. Over the years I’ve lived here I have consistently witnessed random acts of kindness and civility, interacted with genuinely pleasant, courteous souls, and marveled at the collective strength of character Nashvillians always seem to exude.
Well, almost always.
Music City, you have a problem. You just can’t seem to stay out of my space. I’m specifically referring to you able-bodied peeps and your absolute love affair with my disabled parking spaces, my bathroom stalls, and my fitting rooms. I fully realize that these are technically public places, but they simply were not meant for you – and you damn well know it.
I know how tempting is is. You just have to run into the store for a second. You’ve got ten things to try on and you want to be able to hang them all up and sit on the long bench in the oversized cubicle while you’re changing. You have to use the toilet and that great, big empty stall with the grab bars is calling your name.
Except when you park in that blue placarded space you’re forcing me to find a spot wide enough to allow me to get into my wheelchair from the car without denting the vehicle next to me. While you’re preening in the mirror in the disabled dressing room I have to wait patiently, garments balanced on my lap, until you’re finished. Some store managers do worse than that by keeping the disabled fitting room packed with excess inventory. But the worst offenders by far are the inconsiderate handicapped toilet-stall hogs. When I go into a public restroom that is empty save for the one person who has set up camp in the disabled stall to do their business, make extended phone calls, hide from their boss, or eat their lunch (Yes, I witnessed the last bite being chewed and the burger wrapper being wadded up as the stall door opened.) I find it hard to resist the urge to kick the door in and pee on them.
Think of it this way. Imagine somebody you don’t know comes to your house while you’re not home and parks their car in your spot in the driveway or garage. They then proceed straight to your bedroom, lock the door, and change clothes several times, making a few calls as they go. Meanwhile, someone else is camped out in your bathroom using the toilet, cleaning out their purse, and having a fight with their ex via text messages. You come home and find your parking spot has been taken, your bedroom door locked, and your bathroom occupied. Would you be okay with that? Would it be acceptable for a stranger to occupy a space that belongs to you?
No? I didn’t think so.
Next time you get the urge to violate a space set aside for someone who really needs it I hope you’ll think about what you’ve just read. If not, I may just show up at your house.
Images courtesy of Google