redeyevision

Sometimes, you try to talk yourself out of the things you see.

For example, yesterday, I went to the gym. Far out.

Walking to the front of the parking lot, there's always two empty handicapped spaces that are never filled. I don't know for sure, but if I ever wind up in a wheelchair, I'm getting a good work-out from the old-fashioned, non-motorized variety and dropping my gym membership.

I'll also enter into disabled olympics and play wheelchair basketball and the like.

But none of that has nothing to do with this story, so I'm sorry you had to read that. I'm just saying I never see disabled people in my gym.

Anyways, I'm to the front of the lot, near the two handicapped spots when an older Ford Explorer pulls into one of mentioned handicapped spots. And quickly, out pops a young, twenty-something male, with handicapped tag hanging from mirror and protein shake in hand.

With no limp and perfect stability, he makes a quick scan of the parking lot from under his backwards-turned Texas Longhorns cap, and briskly jaunts into the health club. Into the health club, from his handicapped, front-row parking space.

Now, I've seen plenty of seemingly healthy 50-year olds park in similar spaces and tote out cartons of cigarettes and lottery tickets, but I always felt sorry for them.

I've never seen a meaty kid who looks like he lifts weights do this.

Just sayin'.