The placards in Florida have to be registered every year or two. There are two kinds. The red ones are temporary and the blue ones are permanent.
So after awhile they’d be no good. We have two, one for each of our cars, but I would NEVER dream of using it if Ivylad wasn’t with me (or going to be with me.)
That applies in Caifornia, anyway. I’ve transported disabled friends who didn’t have cars, and they had the hang-tag to bring along. I did double-check, and it was totally OK to be used on my car if the person it was issued to was with me on the trip.
Yep, this is what my mom and grandma use. We are also in California.
On the fakers. One of my ex-gfs is model hot. She absolutely looks like she’s faking her use of the spot. That is until you see the deep surgical scar from her spinal surgery even a minor fall would likely cause paralysis. Save your outrage for active assholes, they’re both numerous and deserving.
My first husband had an invisible disability at times. He was tall and broad shouldered and looked hale and hearty. But if anyone followed us around, they’d see that he didn’t walk very quickly and had to sit down often.
Bullshitters and fakers hurt those who don’t bullshit and fake.
It’s so rare I need one, I would never qualify. They’re pretty strict about it here.
I’ve wondered this. But as I’m not this person’s family (who lives here in town and normally transports her) and only occasionally transport, I’m not going to push her to get it. I borrow. She’s old, slow and has to use a cane. No one’s going to be checking once they see her.
A fucking men. And everyone has a story about a perfectly healthy person they saw sprint out of their car in the handicapped spot, run a marathon and get back in. Just like everyone has seen people buy lobster with their food stamps. Give it a rest already. If anyone EVER has the balls to ask me what MY handicap is, I’ll say “TOURETTES. GO FUCK YOUR MOTHER!” It is so far from anyone’s business what my problem is (and I look healthy as a horse most days) that I will never explain it, never ever. Maybe make up a new illness each time. “Extra testicle”, “Severe dandruff”, “Hangnail”
I get this. But dont you hate not being able to find a parking space as a faker has parked in the space you are legally entitled to?
So, if we see someone we suspect is a faker should we:
shut up and say nothing, thus allowing the faker to get away with it?
or challenge him and run the risk of being wrong?
I think challenging is ok, but should be done politely with the awareness that even though someone looks ok they might not be faking. Approach with respect.
Seriously? I would never in a million years accuse someone of faking. I have better things to do with my energy. I would wait for a spot to become available and take it when it did. How could I ever presume to know that a person parked there is disabled? It’s simply none of my business. Having to wait for a spot or walk an uncomfortable distance (or come back another day) isn’t their fault or anyone else’s. The idea of challenging a “faker” is repugnent and awful. I’m blown away that anyone has this mindset of policing disabled spots.
I guess I’ll bow out after this because this thread is seriously disturbing/depressing. WTF do you mean done politely? There is no polite way to ask me why I’m using a spot- call the police if you’re worried and MYOB. Like anyone owes YOU an explanation? How ridiculous and insulting.
Frankly, the times I’ve used the placard driving my MIL around, if someone came up and respectfully asked me about it, I wouldn’t be offended at all. I would’ve agreed that abuse is problem and thanks for checking. As long as they were kind and respectful about it, I’m not that easily offended.
Seriously. Social pressure is how ‘we’ keep a lot of minor offenses in check. I wouldn’t personally go beyond giving someone a skeptical look, but I think that the knowledge that people do notice and disapprove of misuse of handicapped spaces keeps that misuse level down somewhat.
I am trying to be mindful of Type 2. I have withdrawn my outrage.
Today there was a catering truck parked in front of my office and no handicapped spots. That was irritating. I did not park behind them and call the cops, or key them (well, that would have been hard all things considered).
I did park in another spot that they could have reached easily, go to the receptionist and ask her to remind them not to it again. I feel myself growing as a person. The next time they do it, I call the police.
I saw a local news report a few years back about a couple of older gentlemen in wheelchairs who took it upon themselves to police disabled spots at local malls and such. A camera crew was following one of them around when he came upon a van parked in a handicapped spot without the placard or license plate.
Just as he was revving into his indignation and outrage speech, and writing up the unofficial “ticket” to leave on the windshield, the other fellow wheels up and says “Oh, that’s my van. I just forgot to bring my placard today.” They had a good laugh and carried on.
There’s something to learn there, I think.
I’ve seen people negotiating the sidewalk ( and crosswalks ) of midtown Manhattan using these. My god, it looks brutal.
And… one thinks about the hamstring, hip socket, lumbar, disks…etc. Are you in remarkable pain BECAUSE you are having to use this device??
Hope the healing up goes smoothly and you can ditch this soon.
In a very philosophical vein, this reminds me of the non-fiction book Black Like Me, in which a white man passes for black in the deep South of 1959. He then is able to stop presenting as a black man and returns to the same places he’d been, etc.
You are truly handicapped and are experiencing an entire palette of problems- and yet you, to the best of your knowledge, will get to walk on two feet at some point soon and no longer be handicapped.
I would encourage you to journal madly. Detail each event, each situation. Names, places, etc. Here’s why. Store managers and corporate policy-makers may well take notice of someone who documented and then walks in on two feet and presents factual data showing the shortcomings.
Harsh but true. Just a thought.
While I’ve never used one of those devices, I have spent much time at various incidents on crutches and wheelchair. To the able-bodied (especially kids) crutches look like they could be fun, sort of like mobile gymnastics poles. I’ve seen athletic kids swing themselves around them in fun and nimble ways. But if you are using them because you NEED to, they’re torture devices. They KILL your underarms. No amount of padding helps once your arm pits become sensitized to the pressure. Your arm pits are just not designed to hold your body weight, which is how crutches are meant to be used. (I’ve never tried the fore-arm only kind.)
I also had to spend a few weeks in a wheelchair as a kid. It looks easy, just sit there, right? My ass got so sore after a few hours. I ended up having to turn from side to side, putting my weight on one hip or the other for a few hours in order to spread out the pain. It’s better than being bedridden, but… no fun there either!
You’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to put your weight on your hands and the grips should be near hip level.
No, that is not how they are meant to be used.
As running coach says, “You’re supposed to put your weight on your hands” The pads or crossbars at the top of the crutch rest against the side of your torso. Moving normally, you shouldn’t be putting any weight on your underarms.
[princess bride] To the pain![/pb] it’s not that fun. My knee and hip and lower back all get sore. Oh well. That part is what it is. I still hope to leave this thing behind me. I consider myself lucky that I can use it at all. A different break and it would have been crutches. That would have been much worse.
On blogging or journaling. I think I will. My husband has been bugging me to do this. Not for my ill-conceived snark about who parks where, but because I have actually come up with all kinds of things about how to manage restaurants, shopping, cooking that he thinks would help others. I may put it out there.
Okay, you’re right. But my hands got really sore too, and I think that’s why I started spending more time with weight in my armpits. I was a young girl at the time, so I didn’t have adult male hand strength.