Get your limp on...

The other day, as our friend Steve & I were approaching my car, we had a conversation that went like this:

 

Steve: Uhm, Gates? Are you forgetting something?

Me (frantically checking pockets): Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet & Watch. Nope, I'm good.

Steve: Isn't it time for you to get your limp on?

Me: Oh shit - thanks! (commence ridiculously overblown limping)

 

I have a confession to make. I have a "Princess Parking" permit. Princess parking is what we call handicapped parking. Before anyone goes and feels all bad for me, imagining me in a wheel chair with some terrible, life altering injury, don't. My princess parking permit is...(cue ominous music)... stolen.

Technically it was found. Punk & I were leaving a restaurant one night about 6 months ago. As we were heading to our car, Punk happened to look down & there it was. A lifetime handicapped parking tag. Now really, what were we supposed to do with it? We could have left it there, I suppose, but when something like this happens, it's like manna from heaven. The gods OBVIOUSLY wanted us to have it. Hell, the parking lot was almost completely deserted. It wasn't like there was some cottonhead in an '87 buick riviera storming back through the lot to claim it - it was clearly abandoned. So we did the only responsible thing we could think of. Granted, our thinking was muddled by wine & beer, but still, we decided to adopt it.

I still have enough guilt (yes, guilt & I are old friends - I can arrange to feel guilty about most anything.) to worry, and wonder. Who had it before us? Are they in deep shit for losing it? Will the fates punish us for being selfish?

I don't use it often. I'm not THAT much of a prick. But when we do? I still feel a little guilty. I'm also wondering "Are people watching 2 perfectly healthy people pull into a handicapped space? Are we being... JUDGED?"

So on those rare occasions, I limp. I know it's totally lame, and I'm not that good an actor to pull it off. Also my limp randomly moves from leg to leg, depending on the day. It alleviates my sense of being judged somewhat, and I do take a perverse delight in acting it out - I take about a dozen steps, then massage my leg a little, and then the limp starts to magically fade as we approach the store. Punk has given up trying to stop from from this little routine - He just rolls his eyes and says "Hurry up, gimpy".

So yes, I have a stolen parking pass. And I feel bad about it. I don't, however, feel so bad that I don't use it. If you're going to judge me for using it, at least watch my routine first. Then you can pity my acting skills at the same time. In fact, maybe my bad acting IS my handicap. There dilemma solved.