1.8 – Morally Handicapped

The human condition fascinates me: what makes us act and react as we do. For the most part, I tend to people watch and enjoy the give and take of conversations I hear. Today was not one of those days. 

Outside for my fifteen, those sacred moments I use to smoke and unwind from whatever stress I’m carrying for the day, I was somewhat spacing off: watching people park their cars, chit chatting as they walked into the stores.

A man, if you want to call him that, pulled up the hill and turned into the parking area. At the same time, a woman in a van pulled in from another direction and slowed in front of a handicapped parking spot. The tag from the window and the symbol on her license plate said she deserved the spot. She parks, that should be the end of the story. Well, it isn’t. The guy, in his souped up little sports car, cuts the woman off and parks his car in the handicapped spot.

hand·i·capped

1. physically or mentally disabled.*

She rolls down her window and, politely, says “Excuse me, sir. You parked in handicapped parking. I was going to park there.”

The man locks his precious cars door and says, “well, that’s not my problem.” He proceeds to walk toward the store entrance. I’m thinking, she’s going to park somewhere else, although the handicapped parking is full and the jerk is just going to win this one. But she doesn’t. She hollers again, telling him that he can’t park there. She takes the tag off her rear view mirror and waves it at him, “I’m handicapped, move your car!”

He keeps walking, loud as ever, “that’s not my f**king problem. Why don’t you park over there,” as he waves to some other part of the already filled lot. The lady starts yelling now, “you can’t do this. I’ll block you in.” He laughs and says “you stay here, I’ll be right back. Stay here and keep being mad while I run inside.” HE LAUGHS!

The woman finally loses it and screams, “I’m going to block you in and call the cops. I’m calling the cops.” What a surprise, the guy stops walking and turns to acknowledge the woman, probably for the first time throughout all of this. He says “I’ll be right back.” She doesn’t care, she’s calling the cops and that’s that.

He starts walking back to his car, because heck if he wants the cops called on him, I’m sure. The whole way back, she’s saying, “you can’t do this,” and he’s saying “I’m sorry, okay? Don’t call the cops, I’m sorry. I’ll move.” The woman moves her van so he can back out. As he gets into his car, a woman runs out of the store, a customer I had actually just helped before my break, and she’s laughing hysterically. She gets into the passenger side and the two share a fit of laughter. He backs up but won’t turn. They start yelling from their window, telling the woman to take the spot. But she won’t. Because she’s waiting for him to turn out so she can get his license plate. He refuses to move and this goes on for about a minute before he swerves in front of another car and zooms off.

The woman parks the car and opens the door, crying. She starts to walk, slowly, from the parking lot. I meet her halfway and ask if she’s okay. I tell her to come inside and get her something to drink. She sits, says thank you as she shakes her head. “Some people are just so self-absorbed,” she says. And my heart breaks.

I would, first, like to point out that I should have gotten up and told that pompous jerk to move the (insert bleep here) car or I’d be happy to call the cops. In the moment, I thought it was going to be one of those, ‘wow, that fixed itself quickly’ things. It wasn’t. And for not setting that guy straight, I’m a jackass. Hindsight is 20/20 but not exactly helpful.

I’m trying to find the inspiration in this. That’s what my life is about…what I want it to be about: finding inspiration in all of the moments – good and bad. But I’m not really inspired here. I’m angry, I’m disappointed, I’m annoyed with the human species.

I ask myself, why does this bother me so much? If it was regular parking, well, it is what it is. It happens all the time. But it wasn’t. This woman suffers from something, whether I know what it is or not. She doesn’t have the same physical abilities as that man. Or me. And there was no regard for that. But what upsets me, more than anything, was his laughter. The sheer pleasure he found in upsetting this woman.

I’ll kick my own ass for not walking across that lot and punching him in the gut. I’ll kick my own ass for not giving him a piece of my mind. Although I would rather not share with someone so oblivious. It wouldn’t change a thing. He has status, money, happiness in his evil ways. That woman will probably feel the pain of that experience far longer than you or I. That feeling of being less. Again, my heart breaks.

I saw a demon today, and he was a morally handicapped, narcissistic ass dressed in purple.

*Dictionary.com

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