The low population density of Moraga smiled on me this morning, and not only were there plenty of parking spots all over the place (not to mention one other customer inside), I scored a parking spot in front. I normally don't take these spots, because (1) my partner has convinced me that taking these spots when you don't actually need them interferes with parking karma, and (2) there are a lot of old folks around here, and they probably need these spots more than I do. But today I had no pockets, two envelopes, a wallet, keys, and a very crabby pajama-clad 18-month-old in dire need of a nap who is prone to wanting to wiggle free from my arms in order to walk across parking lots with me, so I was trying to be quick about things.
My car was parked next to the handicapped spot, which was on my passenger side. On leaving, as I approached my back passenger seat to install aforementioned crabby child in her carseat, a convertible BMW flew into the lot and into the handicapped spot, way too fast. Clue #1 that it's not someone in need of a handicapped spot: showy, low sports car. Clue #2: showy, silly speeds in a parking lot, despite driving at a Mom and her baby. Clue #3: no handicapped placard.
Clue #4 was that the 40-ish dude getting out of the car was completely able-bodied.
My Grandpa used to have a hell of a time walking across parking lots, and when the handicapped spot was taken it was actually an issue for him. My other Grandma has one leg (and thus has, fairly, earned herself the right to that spot, prosthesis and all). My next-door neighbor is 90 years old. And thus, trying to give this guy the benefit of the doubt (like, maybe he was driving so fast he didn't notice the big blue sign and the brightly-painted blue curb), I decided to do the socially responsible thing and let him know. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: You know, a lot of elderly people are going to be coming here today.
Him: What, you're saying I should go to the other post office? I can't...
I pointed at the handicapped sign. Hey, maybe he hadn't noticed.
Me: Why did you park in the handicapped spot?
But I didn't get an answer to my question, because, obviously, anyone so important that they can't walk an extra 20 feet across a parking lot can't be taking time to answer silly questions from an annoying suburban Prius-driving Mom toting a baby in penguin pajamas. Instead, he just gave me an annoyed look and opened his trunk to retrieve... a big, heavy package? Crutches? A wheelchair?....
...oh, a couple envelopes. Yes, those can be a real nuisance, seeing as how you have nothing else to carry with you, sir.
And so, with the baby still in my arms, I pointed the car out to her, and I said, "Abby, this is dou-cher-y. Can you say 'dou-cher-y'?"
And, despite being sleepy, the child obediently tried. "Deesheewee," she said, rather pleased with herself.
Deesheewee, indeed. The deesh himself pretended not to hear us, slammed his trunk and flew inside, as quickly as he'd been driving.
And as we were backing out he flew out again, envelopes still in his hand and obviously frustrated. Perhaps a line of 2 people had formed, or perhaps he forgot something. Either way, karma smiled.
And so did I.
