Rejected Again!
I called my doctor's nurse this week and asked for a handicapped sticker or something like that. I need to have access to the premium handicapped parking spots now that I am driving into the crusty bowels of the city every day for work. At the grocery store, I wouldn't dream of using a handicapped spot. Pre-surgery, though, I used to dread parking far from the entrace to anything, so much that it would color my decisions on whether or not to go somewhere.
(E.g., concert? Hell no. Baseball game? Gotta be kidding! Disney World? Are you trying to kill me?!)
Anyhow, now that my back feels better, and I don't experience the pain of a twisted rib cage near the end of the day, I park far away from store entrances just to show off my new body, and look down upon all those who scramble for a premium spot in the process! Look at you, lazy, slovenly bane of the earth, you who seeks comfort and ease, while I, superior human being with rods keeping me upright, eschew the leisure that you so eagerly seek! Watch me as I get some exercise while walking the parking lot at Kohl's! Stare in wonderment as I climb the stairs of Marshall Fields!
So I need the handicapped parking permit. By the time I get to the parking garage at work, the only spot I can get is on the tenth or, like today, the eleventh floor. And here's the catch: My psychosis precludes me from entering the garage elevator, due to its Lilliputian nature, leaving me with no choice but to traverse many stairs in an ugly stairwell. ISSUE: this added leg of my daily commute causes me to arrive at work even later, which aggravates me to no end, seeing as how I can't ever make it to work before 9:00 a.m., no matter what. I have woken up at 5:00 a.m. in order to arrive at work on time, but somehow, something delays me (laziness) and I end up at work late.
The obvious solution is to take the god-damned elevator or else leave the house earlier. Not possible. I don't need to get into details, but's let's just say that taking the elevator could very likely cause dramatic changes is my health, including heart attack, hyperventilation or stroke. It may even cause cancer, who knows. But check it out: the elevator is little larger than a breadbox, has no air conditioning and no windows. Commuters are notorious for cramming themselves into elevators to the point of physical intimacy, and the thought of being stuck in a broken elevator the size of a thimble with twelve of my closest friends, with no air conditioning on a hot, muggy Chicago day, is about as terrifying as it gets. Do I exaggerate when I say that you could die???!!! I think not!
SIDE BAR: I had a case where 11 co-workers got into their office elevator, and as it reached the fourth floor, the elevator ran out of gas, so to speak, and it free-fell all the way down. Talk about putting a major glitch in the office work-product! The wierd thing is that one person walked away unscathed, while yet others have experienced painful injuries.
(E.g., concert? Hell no. Baseball game? Gotta be kidding! Disney World? Are you trying to kill me?!)
Anyhow, now that my back feels better, and I don't experience the pain of a twisted rib cage near the end of the day, I park far away from store entrances just to show off my new body, and look down upon all those who scramble for a premium spot in the process! Look at you, lazy, slovenly bane of the earth, you who seeks comfort and ease, while I, superior human being with rods keeping me upright, eschew the leisure that you so eagerly seek! Watch me as I get some exercise while walking the parking lot at Kohl's! Stare in wonderment as I climb the stairs of Marshall Fields!
So I need the handicapped parking permit. By the time I get to the parking garage at work, the only spot I can get is on the tenth or, like today, the eleventh floor. And here's the catch: My psychosis precludes me from entering the garage elevator, due to its Lilliputian nature, leaving me with no choice but to traverse many stairs in an ugly stairwell. ISSUE: this added leg of my daily commute causes me to arrive at work even later, which aggravates me to no end, seeing as how I can't ever make it to work before 9:00 a.m., no matter what. I have woken up at 5:00 a.m. in order to arrive at work on time, but somehow, something delays me (laziness) and I end up at work late.
The obvious solution is to take the god-damned elevator or else leave the house earlier. Not possible. I don't need to get into details, but's let's just say that taking the elevator could very likely cause dramatic changes is my health, including heart attack, hyperventilation or stroke. It may even cause cancer, who knows. But check it out: the elevator is little larger than a breadbox, has no air conditioning and no windows. Commuters are notorious for cramming themselves into elevators to the point of physical intimacy, and the thought of being stuck in a broken elevator the size of a thimble with twelve of my closest friends, with no air conditioning on a hot, muggy Chicago day, is about as terrifying as it gets. Do I exaggerate when I say that you could die???!!! I think not!
SIDE BAR: I had a case where 11 co-workers got into their office elevator, and as it reached the fourth floor, the elevator ran out of gas, so to speak, and it free-fell all the way down. Talk about putting a major glitch in the office work-product! The wierd thing is that one person walked away unscathed, while yet others have experienced painful injuries.
posted by Slipperysnake @ 3:58 PM
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