Your Inconvenience is My Basic Access

I need to talk about what happened last night — this is not okay, and I do not want to act like this is normal. But it is, even though it shouldn’t be, not for me and not for anyone. I am so fucking DONE being quiet that you shouldn’t even try to imagine the rage floating through me right now.

We made a Saturday run to the Costco in Novato because I am running out of days before my neck surgery. I usually make some attempt to avoid this specific shopping center on the weekends if I can because accessible parking is a bit scarce and crowds are brainless, but today I had little choice. I was having trouble getting around at all even in my own home, so we made certain from a drive-by that we could see motorized carts waiting right inside the front door. We did a couple of loops looking for parking near enough to the entrance that I could make it to the motorized carts on my sticks, and in the process saw that a semi trailer was parked up on the sidewalk alongside the front of the building, perpendicular in front of the bank of handicap designated slots near the door.

I noticed someone in one of those accessible slots seemingly finishing up tying a Christmas tree onto the top of their Lexus SUV, so I looped again and came down the lane of parking which would put me directly behind him. As I sat there waiting for him to back out so I could park, we realized that the semi trailer was full of Xmas trees — it seemed that they were selling them right there out of the back of the trailer. I joked to Keith that the people in the Lexus likely didn’t even have a placard allowing them to park there, but hey, it was a Bay Area Lexus so they must have purchased the optional Entitlement Package at the dealer, right?

At this point I see another SUV pull up to my left, and put her left turn signal on — she clearly wanted the spot I had been waiting for. By now we have seen that the majority of accessible spots are being taken by people only there to pick up trees, and regardless, I had been there first. So as the Lexus backed out, temporarily blocking the new SUV’s path (I think it was an Explorer or Land Rover), I zoomed across and took the spot I had already been waiting for when she arrived. Once parked, I gathered my purse and phone, hit the driver’s control button for Mopsy’s door behind me and slid out of my van onto my forearm crutch do undo her carseat buckles….and at about this point my brain registers that someone is yelling.

Land Rover’s driver had left her vehicle running and the door open in the middle of the “road” in the Costco parking lot, and had come over to SCREAM at the tree attendants about how awful it is that [pointing at me], “this bitch STOLE my damn spot, so where am I supposed to park now to get my tree? She just took that spot right in front of me, are you going to do something? I don’t know what the hell her problem is, but I don’t have a ton of time. Can’t you get this [gestures at the slot next to me, also fully abled people without a placard or plates getting a tree tied onto their car] one to move faster?” Owner of the car next to me, I assume in an effort to diffuse the situation, jumps in and says, “I know, I know, we are all in the same boat here, we are moving as fast as we can. Give us a sec.”

Let me be clear, what he was saying in response to her anger at me was: “We, fully abled adults without placards or plates are all in the same boat of having to share the parking specifically set aside for those with physical restrictions, and are for the first time in our physically privileged lives realizing how scarce this parking actually is. As such, we are moving as fast as we can out of this spot — that would be the spot which is here for the people who, unlike your entitled ass, can’t jog across a parking lot to whine about access to spots that aren’t there for them in the first place — so that you can then take this spot and thus prevent other mobility disabled people from using it. At Costco, on a Saturday, at Christmastime. Give us a sec.”

I don’t remember her exact words, but Mopsy said something that let me know she was scared of all the yelling and that she knew it was about me. I side-stepped so that she was blocked from Land Rover Lady, and I yelled, “Excuse me, wait. Am I ACTUALLY listening to two totally fucking abled people fight over a damn handicapped spot? REALLY?!?!?!? You have GOT to be kidding me.” (By this time, my arms were visibly shaking with the effort of holding my body upright; I needed to get to the door of Costco so that I didn’t collapse right there, but I was seeing red at her audacity and I was NOT letting this one go.) A woman a little way over leaned out her car and confirmed that was exactly what was happening, abled people arguing over spots that they have ZERO legal right to in the first place, and I turned to Land Rover Lady (who was openly glaring at me, hands on hips, leaning toward me rather aggressively) and said, “My gods, lady. You are a fucking piece of work. You know that? I cannot believe you.” She huffed loudly, flipped her hand right at my face (the non-ASL sign for “fuck you, I’m done listening to your horseshit”) and stormed back to her SUV, where she proceeded to sit in the driver’s seat yelling at me with the windows up the entire time it took me to collect my kid and hobble off.

A solid dozen people heard the entire exchange. They stopped, some of them apparently frozen, and they stared at this woman screaming about how my taking this spot was sooooo inconvenient to her. They listened to her call me a bitch for needing parking she wanted. They watched my face burn, and my fighting to not cry right there. They saw Keith come over — trying to piece together the parts he had missed being on the other side of my van and taking four whole seconds to walk around to Mopsy and me — and they saw him put his arm around me when I asked him to leave it alone because I wanted to go right then. They saw me humiliated, they saw her cold entitlement, they averted their eyes when I looked each of them in the face. No one outside of my little family said or did shit.

THIS IS WHY NO ONE BELIEVES YOU WHEN YOU SAY, “Well, if I was there, I would have stepped in.” Because people NEVER FUCKING DO.

Keith was the definition of a gem. I didn’t want him to deal with Land Rover Lady, I wanted away from her and even far more, I wanted Mopsy away from her. I needed to get the weight off of my arms that my legs were unable to bear. Keith got us in the door to Costco, where he then went straight to management and told them that they had two choices: they could fix this NOW, or he would make their lives VERY difficult. The manager we spoke with, Seth, apologized profusely and promised us it would be fixed. We knew the trailer wouldn’t be moved right away, there was no rig to tow it elsewhere. But Seth promised that he would see to it that no more cars without placards or plates would be taking up handicap spaces in order to get trees. I broke down crying in the middle of dealing with management, largely because Mopsy gave me a hug and said that she didn’t care about that lady, I am a nice person and that lady was wrong to say mean stuff about her momma who is so nice to everyone — the absolute fucking injustice hit me so hard. Not the injustice for me, but because Mopsy didn’t ask for a momma so broken, and this bullshit shouldn’t be a part of ANY childhood.

We came out 2hrs later as Costco was getting closer to closing — only to find five spots taken up by people getting their trees. We stayed there ten minutes, and saw one car leave with its tree (you can barely see the taillights on the left side) after taking up two slots, plus the car in the picture which was parked across two spots and the ramp zone never moved(that hashed out space between accessible slots is for people who can’t transfer out of their chairs and need space for their hydraulic ramps to come down, or those who use slide boards to transfer, or those who simply need more space between vehicles for their adaptive devices). The half dozen tree attendants didn’t tell anyone they couldn’t park there, and Costco certainly didn’t check in to enforce anything. Business had apparently slowed, and the majority of the tree attendants were sitting there chatting while people without placards or plates occupied the BULK of the accessible spots.

So, really, there are two problems here, right? It is some really shitty action on the part of Costco, and it was Miss Privilege And Entitlement North Bay seeing my use of a spot she wanted as an issue. But it all comes down to the same shit. The things that I need to live — not a “normal” life, because that is impossible for me, but a life involving very basic access and necessities — are burdensome. Some small adaptations might be granted, but it is always a bit reluctantly, and with the subtext of, “well, FINE….but only because it is the law.” There is a constant insinuation that my needs are putting others out. I am a bother, a nuisance, an annoyance. I learned long ago that can extend to a point where my humanity is up for debate for some people — apparently all it takes to shift that humanity for some people is something as miniscule as a parking space they feel they are more entitled to. But this is important: for all that Land Rover Lady is seemingly the antagonist in this tale, for me this one is actually on Costco. They allowed these trees to be sold there without worrying about the fact that it was inviting people to abuse the disabled parking; that by putting the trailer and the trees right there, they were going to make it very difficult for anyone mobility disabled to get in the door. We brought it to their attention, and they promised a fix. But it wasn’t important enough for them to check up with the tree people to see that it WAS fixed.

This is a REALLY difficult body period for me, even more so than is my norm. In this incredibly difficult period — made all the worse because I have to be off of all my anti-inflammatories in preparation for surgery on a very vascular part of my upper spine day after tomorrow — I am trying to make sure my little family has the crap it needs to keep life as normal as possible while I am healing. That’s it, that is all. I am not asking for someone to do my shopping for me. I am not asking for a discount on my groceries. I am asking for basic fucking access to a parking spot that makes it POSSIBLE for me to even get in the door three days before spinal surgery. And I am asking for that basic fucking access to not be shoved in my face as so burdensome to Miss Privilege Herself, or the other people who wanted to get their trees tonight. I am asking that Costco have a brain cell in its managerial head, and to think — without someone like me pointing it out to them — that literally alongside the bulk of the accessible spots is MAYBE NOT THE BEST PLACE TO PARK A TRAILER FULL OF TREES FOR SALE. Regardless of whether or not you understand or agree, the truth is that for some of us access to close parking really does make the difference between getting to shop and not getting to shop.

I am so, so weary of basic accommodations being a nuisance. I am beyond exhausted of having to beg and scratch for every crumb grudgingly tossed my way. This life is enough of a fight, having this body. I don’t need to fight all of society, too.