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Published in the Philadelphia Inquirer, South Jersey
Commentary, on February 23, 2000. Disabled? Sure - they lack compassion Those who park in spots set aside for the less fortunate are truly handicapped. By Sidney B. Kurtz It is time that something be done about people who are not disabled but pull into parking spaces reserved for disabled drivers. One such recent episode at the Cherry Hill Mall raised my ire. I was there because a store had advertised one of those sales that feature 50 percent off retail plus an extra 10 percent off on top of that. It sounds like 60 percent off but isn't really. For those unfamiliar with the math, it works like this: If the retail price is $100, take off 50 percent and the price becomes $50. But the additional 10 percent is deducted from the $50 balance, which brings the final price down to $45, not the $40 that it would be if you got 60 percent off the original price. But I'm getting away from my point. The special opening time for this one-day sale was 9 A.M., an hour earlier than usual. The lot was empty when I got there, so I parked in a space nearest to the building. As I looked at snow plowed into 10-foot piles, I was reminded of the now-defunct Ski Mountain resort in Pine Hill. Suddenly, a car pulled into a handicapped-parking space near me. My interest was immediately aroused because it is a rare day when I see a disabled person get out of a car parked in a space reserved for the handicapped. The license plate showed nothing to indicate a disabled driver, so I expected that one of those familiar little tags indicating that the driver was disabled would soon be swinging from the mirror. Sure enough, the driver whipped one out and hung it up. I then watched as the driver alighted effortlessly from the car and hustled on into the mall. No walker, no cane, not even a limp - where was the disabled person? With the parking lot empty, that driver could have parked in any one of dozens of other spaces that would have required only an extra 15 or 20 feet of walking. But, no, it had to be the handicapped space. Why? Because it was nearer the building. Oh, to be a police officer at a time like this. I wondered where and how this energetic individual who zipped so gracefully into the mall had acquired a handicapped-driver placard. I researched the subject and found out that in New Jersey, an application for a temporary placard designating the driver as handicapped must be accompanied by a certification, from a medical doctor or podiatrist, that the driver has temporarily lost the use of one or more of limbs or is otherwise temporarily disabled. The driver at the mall failed the test miserably. Anyway, my watch showed 9 A.M. Time to go in and save a bunch of money by spending a bunch of money on all those sale items. But hold it. There goes another car into a handicapped-parking space. Twice within 10 minutes in a nearly empty parking lot? Tell me it can't happen. Up went the placard. I callously prayed that the driver would struggle painfully from the car with crutches or a cane or at least a neck brace or some sign of a limp. The door opened. The driver emerged, a little older than the first and a little slower but ambulating independently. In fact, to rub salt into a festering wound, before going into the store, this driver wiped down the car, which appeared to have just exited a car wash. Even the hubcaps received some bent-over attention. No limbs disabled here. Come on, folks. Is it really so difficult to walk those few extra steps, let alone that extra mile? Have we become so spoiled by our cars that walking has become such a distasteful process? One of our ancestors of eons past crawled from the sea, shed it's fins, and grew legs. Is civilization destined to ultimately shed its little used legs and grow wheels? In case these car slaves haven't heard, walking is one of the finest exercises there is. It invigorates the body, strengthens the heart, knocks off weight, and may help eliminate the need for a handicapped placard in the first place. But wait a minute. I just noticed that all of this writing and typing is bothering my fingers. I think I'm developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Where's that handicapped-parking application? Sidney B. Kurtz is the author of a family memoir, The Jewish Rectangle: An American Adventure. He lives in Pennsauken. |