Reserved Means RESERVED.
One time my wife and I were at the local <insert-chain-drug-store-here>. It’s an urban neighborhood location so all told there are less than a dozen parking spots, two of which are handicap reserved. Beyond that, there is ample street parking within a block of the store.
When we pulled in I happened to take the last spot, so this Knight who arrived right after me drove straight into one of the handicap spots. (For the record, I think the parking lot could have been vacant and she would have still pulled in there cause it was closest to the door. But whatever…)
So right about now you’re thinking: “Ok. Typical able-bodied ignoramus pulling in and hanging her questionably acquired handicap parking tag story coming, right?” Nope…
This girl – no handicap tag at all – pops on her flashers, shuts down the car, locks up, and heads on into the store. Wait. Huh?
I suppose putting the flashers on was her way of suggesting: “N’no. I’m not parking here. I’m just temporarily leaving my car here unattended while I quickly run into this convenience store and get a few things. I’ll just be a ‘sec. M’kay.” It’s a notion I can only assume she believes renders her “in the right.”
But what cracks me up the most is – think about this for a second – at the end of the day, aren’t we all just running into a convenience store “real quick”? I mean, it’s sort of by definition what a convenience store is, right? But I guess she was going to be quicker than the normal person.
Wow. Just, wow.
(And to confirm your suspisions- yes, she was still there when we left. Not so quick after all.)