I have always said I will never be an activist. I just wanted to be one of the quiet ones…happy in my little corner of the world, pretending problems don’t exist. That is my jam.
If only the a-holes of the world would learn how to park.
Our local police department made a Facebook post the other day showing a photo of a motorcycle parked in some hash marks next to a parking space. This is when I realized that 1) Everyone around me is an idiot. And 2) I may not want to be an activist, but I am one now.
Most of the people making comments on the post we’re actually defending the biker. I know. Crazy, right? They say that many people don’t like when motorcycles are in regular parking spaces because it’s taking up a whole space when they only need a tiny bit of room. So, I guess the only obvious solution to them is to use spaces that are meant for individuals in wheelchairs so they can do every day activities just like everyone else. Do I want to go to the grocery store? No. Do I enjoy going to Walmart and rubbing elbows with women in flesh colored leggings and wondering “Is that pants or is she naked?” Definitely no. But I must. I’m a wife and mother. Sometimes we need stuff.
Back to my story. I went on a commenting rampage telling everyone who defended this man how utterly stupid they were. I also said he was lucky he hadn’t parked next to me because I would’ve absolutely hit his bike with my door. Gator don’t play that shit. (Will Ferrell reference. You’re welcome.) Now, I get it. The general public is unaware of the struggles of being disabled. Some aren’t familiar with the laws. Also, many of them are idiots. But the police department’s response was what really made my head spin and puke come out of every hole in my face.
Did I just have to school a police department on the law? Am I Elle Woods? It’s a good thing I commemorated the occasion with a screen shot, because they deleted their comment shortly after. We are officially living in a world where even law enforcement doesn’t see the rights of people with disabilities as a matter of importance. At least we have each other, right?
Two days later, I took a solo trip to Target to buy things I didn’t need while forgetting everything on my shopping list. I parked like a normal human being and went in to shop. As soon as I hit the doorway on the way out, I saw it. I knew before I even got near my car that someone had parked too close. I thought to myself, “Another able-bodied moron parked in a spot he doesn’t need.” Nope. The vehicle had a handicapped tag and a veteran license plate. They should’ve known better.
I had no idea if my door would hit their car and I absolutely did not care. I pressed the button and let ‘er rip. They must’ve been touched by an angel because I could have barely fit my pinky between my door and their mirror. Then, I squeezed myself onto the platform, not caring if my chair scraped on the way. I was able to get in…and I was pissed. Pissed enough to decide that I can’t be quiet anymore. These things are preventable and easy to avoid unless you’re a selfish asshat. Then, you need a ticket…or at the very least, a giant door ding.
I know I can’t rely on law enforcement to take this issue seriously, so I had to come up with an alternative way of informing people that they park like idiots. Using only my printer, a few boxes of Dollar Store crayons, and my world famous sarcasm, I came up with a wonderful activity for all future offenders.
Activism. My new jam.