When you are an person with a disability, and one with 100% physical damage at that, you exercise the right to have the Parking service make your life a little bit easier by setting up a disabled parking space near your home. Let’s be clear, this isn’t your personal, private parking space, it is a parking space for all who are disabled, as well as all the inconsiderate, rude, and mean civilians. Only when the space is marked, and the sign is placed flashing its yellow colour, does the suffering begin.
Scene 1. – The parking space occupied by a car with a young woman sitting inside of it.
The person with a disability, therefore me: “Excuse me, you’re parked in the disabled spot, would you move your car a bit?”
She lazily turns around and says: “I don’t give a f…!”
I step in front of the illegally parked vehicle, read the license plate and call the towing service. Arrives a tattooed ruffian holding a pizza in one hand and an offspring in the other. The offspring’s mother yells something at him. He throws his pride into the car and threateningly moves towards me shouting: “What’re you doing?” “Calling the police!” I respond. “I’m the police”, he says. “Congratulations”, I say back, “However, I’m also a citizen of this city and I have certain rights.” Here our Hero is surprised a little that I didn’t retreat, so he employs a different tactic…arse-kissing, while his wife screeches out of the car. “Shut it”, he tells her. After a five-minute back and forth I tell him: “If your wife hadn’t insulted me, this would’ve certainly gone a lot different. Tired and disgusted, I say: “Leave”. Tough guy gets in his car and quickly drives by me, while his blondie with the fried-hair flips me the bird, accompanied by this elongated spiked nail shining with fluorescent polish.
Scene 2. – I “raid” numerous shops and stores with the question: “Sorry, whose blue car is parked in the disabled space, and doesn’t have the adequate sticker on it?” I walk into a bakery, same question. People pass right by me and not a single answer. I walk out to the car and read the license plate out loud. Out comes running the unrestrained owner of the bakery, and starts berating me with some vile profanity hailing from some, unknown to me, parts of the ex-Yugoslavian republic. He calls me a looney and tells me to suck his d…, threatens to kill my dogs, that I’m barren… I stand in front of his car completely flabbergasted, frozen in place from the shock. He gets in his car and drives right at me.
Shocked, I jump onto the hood of his car and grab on haphazardly, my only worry being not to damage the arm on which my fistula, or rather my life, is located. The baker violently swerves the car left and right to throw me off, when he suddenly turns and parks the car at our gate. Silence. I get off. I yell for the police, for help…Darkness.
On that day, 26.12.2019., a girl was stabbed in the middle of the street in a nearby neighborhood.
That same day, a baker berated and drove me on the hood of his car. That day, I was humiliated to no end.
On my own birthday, I cancel a mandatory dialysis without which I cannot live and head to court for two misdemeanor charges against the baker.
I am ashamed.