The one and only time I've been a parking spot vigilante was when it was an SUV with not just a not obviously handicapped driver but no plate, no placard, no sticker, no nothing visible at all, in a 20-car parking lot where the 18 non-handicapped places had been full for at least 20 minutes (which I knew because the SUV driver and I had both been pulling in and out of the parking lot and circling the block for 20 minutes).

Having spent part of my 20s ferrying my severely Parkinsonian grandmother around and having to circle many blocks many times because assholes with no plates, placards or stickers had given up on legal parking and pulled in to just run a quick errand, I had no compunction about getting this shop owner to call DPT on this person.

But if someone actually has the plate, placard, sticker? I shut my face way the fuck up; I know too many people with severe but not-obviously-visible disabilities to feel like I'd be anything but the world's most colossal raging asshole to challenge those people based on looking at them for all of about two seconds.

So much ~ma to bonny and the potential. And no guilt. You're such an extraordinarily good dog person, and there are so many dogs out there in desperate need of even barely competent dog persons. Bartleby was as blessed to be your dog as you were to be his human, and bringing everything the two of you learned from each other to your next relationship with the next dog (whoever that dog is, even if it turns out not to be this one) is one way to honor him and your history.

The fines have gotten serious, in my jurisdiction, so it's a lie literally not worth telling around here.(And we don't have parking problems like y'all anyway...maybe downtown, if you don't want to feed the meter.)

Eep! I just corrected a former teacher on facebook after she complained that she saw someone park in a handicapped space with a valid plate and then worked out for a half hour. I essentially said that people with disabilities do still work out for a variety of reasons and she may not fully understand the circumstances. I've had enough people give me questioning looks over the years before I even have time to get out of my car that it is a big issue with me.

Yeah, an old roommate and friend of mine wound up getting a handicapped placard, because he had something that caused severe stiffness and cramping in his legs. I'd watched it get steadily worse since high school. Sometimes he could limber up, but other times not so much. And he would get a LOT of "looks" when he would park, and had *multiple* people come try to be "amateur parking police" at him, because he never needed a cane or crutches and it was hard to tell there was anything wrong with him when he got out of the car. I was witness to at least one.

A 15-minute house inspection? She is out of her mind.

Has this agent EVER sold a house before, sj? (Not that you would necessarily know)> Because it really sounds like this person has a clue, when completely unknowledgeable people have more realistic expectations about this process than she does.

The fines have gotten serious, in my jurisdiction, so it's a lie literally not worth telling around here.

Oh, yeah, the fines have gotten insane here, and enforcement got very aggressive sometime in the late 90s; but before that it was a little spottier. I haven't seen any non-tagged car in a handicapped spot in years.

Amusingly (in a very mean way), the only invisibly handicapped person I know who's gotten challenged recently by parking lot vigilantes is Deb G. It's safe to say that everyone who gets in Deb's face about how she doesn't look disabled enough for their tastes walks away from the encounter severely unlikely to ever try it again.

Probably afraid to talk out loud for a day or so.

Hubby enjoys going to the doctor's office and reporting the people who take up all the handicapped spots near the doors who don't have tags. Turns out a large number of those people are local college students, who say they've been told that if you have out of state plates you can park in those spots. Hubby has occasionally leaned on his cane and smiled beatifically at the sobbing coed or fuming jock who is arguing with a cop who's quietly writing a ticket. And it's not uncommon for the spot to empty out and another clueless student to immediately pull into that spot, right in front of the police car, while Hubby's chatting with the cop.

I'm beginning to think the city should just assign a cop to follow Hubby around when he's driving, just so they can collect tickets.

Or deputize hubby - sounds like he'd get a great deal of entertainment from writing tickets himself.

A few weeks ago, I had the most ridiculous argument with someone over a semi-related issue. I can use stairs, but I usually need to hold onto a handrail, and this was at the end of a day with a lot of walking, so I definitely needed it. I was walking somewhere where there was a ramp, but it was kind of inconvenient, so I took the stairs, holding onto the handrail. There were maybe ten or so stairs. When I was about halfway up, a woman starts walking down the stairs, also holding the handrail. We meet when I have about three stairs to go. She says, "I'm old! You have to move so I can hold on." I say, "I can't use the stairs without the rail," and point to the brace on my ankle. She says, "Well, you have to move, because I'm not moving! I'm old!" We glare at each other a bit, and finally I step over to the side (blocking the other people trying to use the stairs) while she goes past me.

Ugh. I have to leave the house in half an hour to go to this training. And I want to be there, and I want to do some shopping nearby afterward...but at the MOMENT, all I want to do is hit a magic pause button and take a nap (even though I just got up an hour ago).