I work in a hotel. Whoever does the night audit shift and security is allowed to park their car on the edge inside the wide carport. People can still drive through it. This is a boon for us, because we like to keep an eye on our cars during these hours. Years ago, I had somebody mess with my car twice when I parked further away while doing a shift from 3:00 to 11:00 pm.

Every now and then, the carport will have a guest temporarily park in my spot behind security while they check in. That’s no big deal; I can temporarily park in the loading bay about fifty feet away until it clears out.

One day when this happens, soon after I clock in, an extremely angry lady comes to the front desk.

Lady: “There’s a car in a disability-accessible spot without a sticker! I demand that it be towed!”

She shows me a picture on her phone… and it is my car.

Me: “Ma’am, that’s my car.”

It’s probably a mistake to tell her that.

Me: “But that isn’t an accessible spot. It’s a loading bay typically used for deliveries, like food trucks.”

The loading bay area is next to the accessible spots, but there’s not an accessible sign where I’m parked. It’s about three times the size of a regular parking spot, and it has vertical lines in it from top to bottom.

Lady: “Well, it’s not any kind of parking spot.”

Me: “I agree. If you can acknowledge that, then why are you treating it like it’s a parking spot?”

She doesn’t give an answer, and we repeat this cycle of conversation. She keeps making exaggerated facial expressions that come across as condescending and snooty, as if she doesn’t believe me — the guy working behind the desk at the property.

Then, she turns and walks toward the front door.

Lady: *Loudly, over her shoulder* “I’m going to tell my husband!”

Me: *Calling after her* “Please, do!”

As she is exiting, I hear her yell out to somebody:

Lady: “You’re going to flip your lid! The guy said…”

The “husband” never comes inside or calls me. I see another person on the camera, but it is dark and they quickly walk off to one of our other buildings.

About five minutes later, my security person comes up to me.

Security: “Why are the police here?”

I get a sense of dread and think, “She better have not called the police.”

Yes, yes, she did. The police officer says they got a call from a person not wanting to identify themself about this situation. He is parked on the edge of the carport.

Officer: “There’s not even an accessible sign there!”

We talk about it and kind of find the whole situation funny. The cop is able to tell that I am not in a parking spot, accessible or otherwise, from fifty feet away in the dark. He waves it off.

Officer: “Don’t worry about it. Even if there were a real case, it’s up to the property to have a car towed or removed, not the police.”

The fact that the lady didn’t want to give her identity makes me think she knew she was in the wrong.

I have severe arthritis and walk on two canes. I am only sixty-two, but my hair is white. I have lost a lot of weight. It is fair to say I present as elderly and frail.

My friend has driven me to a large medical complex to see a specialist. We park under a huge portico while she goes in to get a wheelchair for me. It is a brisk winter day, and I am sitting on the passenger side in the closed car, holding my canes, waiting for my friend to return.

In the side-view mirror, a sturdy, thin woman around seventy years old has emerged from I don’t know where. She is stomping along in a fur coat and pair of high-heeled boots, swinging a sacral support pillow. She looks mad, and I casually wonder what her story might be.

Suddenly, she is there, rapping on my window. I can’t lower the window, so I open the door an inch.

Me: “Yes?” 

Angry Woman: “You are in the way! You can’t stop here. This is a place for people who need help getting in and out. You are in the way!”

There is room for three cars behind us, if anyone else were present, which no one is.

Me: “I am a person who needs help. My friend is getting a wheelchair.”

[Angry Woman] makes a face like she has just smelled something horrible and literally says:

Angry Woman: “Hmmph!”

She turns on her heel and stomps toward the building entrance. At the door, she has to wait for my friend to come out the door with the wheelchair, and she shouts at her.

Angry Woman: “Is that your car?”

Friend: *Confused* “Um, yes?”

Angry Woman: “You’re in the way!”

And she stomps into the building.

As my friend helps me out of the car, she asks:

Friend: “What on Earth is her problem?”

Me: “I don’t have a clue, but you don’t have to see that support pillow she is carrying to know she is butthurt about something.”

I’m a wheelchair user. While I do still have some mobility left, my doctor and I have both agreed that using a wheelchair is best for my well-being. Because of this, I also have a disability placard for the car.

My partner and I are leaving a store, and I park my wheelchair next to the car, stand up, and get in. A guy walking past sees this.

Guy: “Wow, it’s a miracle! She can walk! Maybe next time use a regular space like the rest of us, jacka**!”

Me: “Maybe you should get hit by a car like I did, jacka**!”

He glared at me but kept walking.

I am in my car on my unpaid lunch break, having a phone conversation with my mom, when there is a sharp knock on my window. I nearly jump out of my skin! A woman with “the haircut” is glaring at me, her military-haircut husband (think retired police officer) standing behind her. I politely smile and give a quick nod before returning to my call. She knocks again.

Customer: “Hello! I need assistance.”

Mom: “What?”

Me: “There’s a woman knocking on my window. Hang on.”

I open the window a few inches.

Me: “You’ll need—”

Customer: “Help us get this inside!”

She gestures to a giant TV.

Me: “Sorry, I’m on my lunch break. You’ll have to—”

The man pounds the side of his fist on my window, right where my face would be if not for the glass. I start the car and drive away, circling the lot and picking a new spot. We are in the very back of the parking lot, where most of the employees park. There are dozens of open spaces closer to the store, so I don’t know why they stopped so far back.

When I return from my break, I am called to the office.

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], have a seat. Just wanted to have a quick chat about an incident that happened today.”

Me: “Okay…”

Manager: “I have a report that you gave a woman the middle finger and told her to find someone else to help her carry a seventy-inch TV in the building.”

Me: “The lady in the parking lot? Seriously? I didn’t give her the finger, but I was sitting in my car on my lunch. I’m not going to haul a giant TV from the back of the parking lot while I’m on my break.”

Manager: “Oh. She didn’t say you were in your car. Did you tell her you were on your break?”

Me: “I did. Then her husband hit my window right in front of my face like he wanted to hit me, so I drove away.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, [My Name]. Go back to the register. I’ll handle this.”

Me: “How many giant TVs have we returned today?”

Manager: “Probably five. Why?”

Me: “Yesterday was the Super Bowl.”

I heard my manager slap his head and curse as I left. I have worked in retail for many, many years. The day after the Super Bowl is always a big day to return those impressively large TVs that were purchased a few days before.

A while back when my health was better, my mother and I routinely walked to a nearby strip mall to dine and buy groceries. My mom, who is capable of walking short distances, couldn’t make the mile-long walk on her own. For this, she used an electric wheelchair.

Federal law considers these devices a part of the person’s body, and state law specifically describes individuals in motorized assisted devices as pedestrians. As a result, if there is a sidewalk, she must use it, while those on skateboards, bicycles, and other modes of transportation are actually forbidden from doing so at all. Furthermore, since her chair is pretty much “wheel legs” by law and not a form of transportation, she is not required to have any form of vehicle insurance to use it.

During one particular trip, my mom and I found the disabled ramp to the strip mall’s side not so much blocked by an illegally parked vehicle as actually occupied by it. Some person had simply driven his very nice car and placed it directly on the ramp itself. This presented a problem for my mom: we had no phone, and it was unreasonable for either of us to wait for this car to just go away. She decided to try to go around the car — arguably not the best choice, but there weren’t many choices here — and turned down her wheelchair speed to make it easier.

She hit a bump, her chair jerked, and she dinged the corner of the car’s bumper.

Apparently, the owner of the car was inside the restaurant we were going to enter. Since the ramp was in plain view of the seating area, he saw it happen, and we were approached by a very well-dressed and angry individual who began to scream at my mom for dinging his car. Among the many things he shouted, the one that stuck out the most was, “I bet you don’t even have insurance!”

My mom is perfectly capable of handling herself, and if she had wanted to, she was almost certainly capable of making this guy back down into a corner by out-screaming him. Furthermore, other members of my family are highly prone to this exact type of behavior, and from my experience, I know that the best thing I can do is stand back and let things take their course. That said, I wasn’t going to let that accusation go. I informed the man, not quite screaming or cussing but very much impolitely, that my mom was not legally required to have insurance and that, unlike her wheelchair, his car was actually not allowed to be on the sidewalk at all.

At that point, this guy whipped out his cell phone and called the police to report a vehicle collision with an unlicensed motorist.

That was when his bad decisions started to turn on him. His screaming attracted the attention of the restaurant’s owner. She was half his size, at least twice his age, and apparently in some way related to him. And when he hung up the phone, she was already there, screaming at him about abusing her customers.

I don’t know exactly what was said after that. The two argued — I’m not sure the exact language, but I definitely didn’t speak it — and the owner proved herself more than capable of outshouting this guy. This went on for a bit while we stood there in awe.

After a while, a police cruiser pulled up, and two officers stepped out to find that those two were screaming back and forth at each other, there was an illegally parked motor vehicle, and the “unlicensed motorist” was a woman in a wheelchair. They took over and excused us from the scene. We were hungry, so we went inside to eat.

This was a fast food restaurant with four tables. We took the one farthest from the scene, and I took the seat facing the window. The entire time, the owner kept coming over to apologize profusely and ask us if we needed anything. We just kept telling her that we were okay and that it wasn’t her or the restaurant’s fault. As we finished our food and prepared to leave, we spotted a tow truck pulling up the scene outside and two very angry and clearly out of patience officers handcuffing the driver.

We’ve been back to the restaurant many times since and have seen the car a few times as well — always parked well away from the ramp in the middle of the parking lot. We never saw the driver again, though.

Did you enjoy this story? Check out other stories like this one in our roundup: 15 Stories About The Ableism That Wheelchair Users Have To Put Up With