
In the fall of 2009, it
arrived in the mail. That unisex white dude in a wheelchair, laminated on blue,
with a perfectly cut hook for your rearview mirror. When filling out the
application for the handicapped placard I felt so guilty. Was I lying? New
Mexico says to get such a placard, I had certify that I couldn’t walk 100 feet
without stopping to rest. Well, I live on a postage stamp—not even 1/10 of an
acre—and the distance from my driveway to my bedroom is farther. Technically I
could make it 33 meters without stopping at the couch—using my walker I don’t
need to pause. Or I had to certify that I couldn’t walk “without the use of a
brace, cane or crutch or without assistance from another person, a prosthetic
device, a wheelchair or other assistive device.” They didn’t specify
“safely”—technically I could drunken sailor myself around without aids for
short distances.
And finally, that I was “so severely limited in the ability to walk due to an
arthritic, neurologic or orthopedic condition that the person cannot ascend or
descend more than 10 stair steps.” Given a railing and time, I could make it up
a flight. Heck, I certainly could make it down (again, nothing in the language
about “safely”).
So when I
went to wield my new parking powers for the very first time, I did so
sheepishly. Until I discovered all 48 of the handicapped spots at the
mega-super-cina-plex were taken. And the entire time I was there, I saw not one
person using a cane or wheelchair. Curious. The closest handicap parking spots
were 500 feet from the entrance (not to mention, to get from the box office to
your seat had to be another 500 feet). Which means a) the system is being
grossly abused, b) there are a ton of people with cardiac and lung conditions
(the only other medical conditions stated on the application), or c) the
eligibility criteria is flawed. In truth, all three are probably correct. Many
of my fellow MSers would not qualify under the above restrictions, but without
handicap parking access, that extra 500 feet today might mean a day in bed
tomorrow just to recover. So put aside that guilt, save your body, live your
life, and get that placard. I did.
Originally published October 27th, 2010. Edited for clarity.