Things have been going very well as they do when holidays are nowhere in sight. Things have been going so well that you might say I’ve been glowing. Apparently, that was the glow of an impending volcanic eruption.
So what the fuck happened?
First, I was awakened at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. Some people might scoff but when you have a body that has to endure 110% past the breaking point just for some remote semblance of normal, you would be quite annoyed as well.
But I rolled with it and continued…
I ran into a couple more minor annoyances before leaving for the beach. Nothing worth noting or remembering. It is, unfortunately, “Labor” Day weekend so I quietly acknowledged to myself the possibility that this day was just getting started with the bullshit.
Traffic was typical until I arrived at my destination. Lake Worth Beach was absolutely packed. Holiday weekends, no matter what their official designation, are Amateur Weekends. Nobody knows how to drive. Nobody knows how to park. And everybody has a fucking handicapped placard.
When I drive the mooncruiser (my van) to the beach, I have two options: park in front of the city pool or park at the old folks grazing pasture about 200 yards north of the pool. With only two spaces in front of the pool, the pasture has an 85% chance of being my only choice.
Even with the holiday weekend, there were still 30 available meter spots. The parking area here is very long but only four rows deep with a one way path between the sections. It doesn’t matter where you park. You will be close to the water.
But if you are an able-bodied, albeit old, punk ass dirtbag in a late model Mercedes-Benz then just block the one way route until somebody moves out of the unavailable spaces. As we all know, being old means being handicapped. Being handicapped is a privilege and an honor that is rewarded with spacious parking.
Being busy minding my own business, my top concern was getting around him and parked ASAP. The mooncruiser will go great distances without a problem but gets really upset and hot when it’s cruising around at 10mph. On what must have been my eighth lap around the lot, I see Mr. Mercedes-Benz with his right blinker on. He’s ready to pull into a spot that somebody is about to leave. It just so happens that neither of these people need the spot.
So I pulled up next to the Benz. No doubt he saw my license plate with the International Crippled Symbol on it. I rolled down my passenger side window. He saw me and froze. I saw his neck stiffen like he was never going to look to his left ever again. He knew what I was going to say. I have a lift. I have a wheelchair. I need the space.
I have a booming voice, boys and girls. There is no material held by the average idiot that will prevent my sound from getting through. This includes concrete but that’s a different story. Basically, this dude wasn’t going to cooperate as he had invested so much time sitting in his car waiting for someone to leave.
I orbited the lot one more time. Passenger window still down. When I returned, Mr. Benz was parked and walking away. I shouted to him. This time he looked.
“Sir, I need extra space to get out of my van. I have a lift and a wheelchair. Would you mind giving up your space? There’s plenty of space. I’ll pay for it.”
I’ll pay for it… translation: You are a jackass. Get out before I give you a reason to park there.
He looked around knowing that he had two choices: move or risk getting the cops involve. There were certainly plenty around. Lucky for him, a third option materialized: “Look. Over there. That person is about to get out.”
“Thank you. Have a great day.”
The remainder of the day involves my hour of swimming, my failure to do something that I said I’d do, an unforeseen slight from out of nowhere, insane traffic on the return home, somebody not knowing when to just stay away from me and me, unnecessarily, yelling at that person when I should have ripped a new asshole for the several people before him.
Anger sucks.
