Handicap Spot
HANDICAP SPOT – November 4, 2024 – Amherst, Massachusetts, USA
It was almost 6:30 in the morning when Bronson Duckworth banged on his grandma’s door. She lived in a split-level brick house on a street filled with potholes and parked cars. She arrived at the door wearing slippers and a puffy pink bathrobe.
“Morning. I need the pass,” Bronson said in a tired voice.
His grandma wordlessly reached for her car keys hanging on a hook near the doorway and handed them to Bronson. He shuffled to the minivan sitting in the driveway and retrieved the plastic handicap parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror. Then he walked back to the door holding out his grandma’s keys.
“Don’t forget to have it back by 12:30,” she said, gesturing toward the pass. “I need to run my afternoon errands.”
“I know, Grandma. We’ve only been doing this every weekday since school started. It would be easier if you left it in the mailbox or hanging on the doorknob. That way, you wouldn’t have to answer the door so early.”
“That pass is too valuable to leave it out somewhere. I need to keep it locked up. I’ll see you around lunchtime.” She gave Bronson a careful look and asked, “You want me to bring you a comb for your hair?”
Bronson used his fingers to rearrange tufts of hair that had matted together while he slept. “No one cares about my hair. I’ll be back later.”
Bronson returned to his own car and drove down the streets which were brightening from the sunrise. Traffic was still light, and he reached the university in predictable time. Now in his fourth year of school, he knew the route without thinking. No one was monitoring the faculty parking lot and Bronson drove through the raised bar at the guard gate.
Campus security was scheduled to arrive at 7:00 and Bronson had learned the hard way they would question any student attempting to enter the lot. In the past, when he showed his grandma’s pass, they questioned whether it truly belonged to him. He was not going to risk that confrontation again.
Bronson drove right to the building entrance where he had his first class and parked in one of the two marked handicap spots. He hung his grandma’s pass from his rearview mirror and then looked around for anyone walking nearby. The coast was clear, so he quickly slipped from his car and skulked toward the building. No one saw that he was perfectly capable of walking or even jogging if needed.
Bronson had encountered judgmental people in the past after walking away from a handicap spot. No one had been confrontational enough to say anything, but he knew what they were thinking. He could deal with their silent criticism, but he did not want them reporting him to the campus parking office. He was less worried about being spotted when leaving campus. No one would have time to write him a ticket or tow his car if he was driving away.
The unwelcome alternative to his complicated parking scheme was using the student lot, which was a half-mile away. The only way for Bronson to avoid long hikes was that get-away-with-anything pass of his grandma’s, even if it did mean he had to leave school by noon. Attending classes only taught in the morning did limit him, but Bronson calculated it was worth it.
When he befriended fellow students enough to trust they would not turn him in, Bronson bragged about his arrangement. Some people were envious while others called him despicable. His case came up in a graduate-student led study section for his sociology class. His classmates were discussing how benefits to an individual can harm society.
“Hey, I wouldn’t do the handicap pass thing if student parking was closer,” Bronson argued defensively. “If you don’t like it, blame the university, not me. It’s their fault.”
“What about people who are actually handicapped and need the spot?” the graduate student asked Bronson.
“They can come early and get a spot close to the building. There are lots of spots like that besides the two handicapped ones.”
“Why don’t you park in a farther away faculty spot with your pass and leave the handicapped ones open?”
“That’ll look suspicious, someone arriving so early with a handicap pass and not using a handicap space.”
“So you’re saying everyone who’s handicapped needs to arrive early. How is that fair?
“How’s it fair that I should have to walk for miles just because I’m a student?”
The graduate student frowned. “I don’t think you’re being very ethical.”
Bronson scoffed. “It doesn’t bother me. I found a loophole and I’m using it. If you don’t like it maybe you can get the law changed so that passes can’t be moved between cars.”
“I think this is going to hurt you in the long run.”
“Huh? How could it possibly hurt me?” Bronson replied dismissively before the discussion turned to another topic.
When planning his semester schedule, the earliest class Bronson found on Monday mornings started at 8 am. That meant he needed to do a little waiting around after arriving before 7:00. On the first Monday in November, Bronson walked through empty hallways until he was outside of the scheduled lecture room. He did not bother going inside because he knew the seats were uncomfortable. He preferred a place where he could lie down and stretch out.
The hallway floor was polished cement, cold and hard. Near the door sat a waist-high rectangular table with a plastic top and folding metal legs. Bronson had used the table before. He placed his backpack and coat on one end to serve as a pillow and then he rolled himself onto the table with his head looking up at the ceiling tiles. He closed his eyes hoping to doze off and then be awakened by the noise of other students arriving.
Bronson fell into a deep sleep within a few minutes. The next thing he knew, a wave of sound poured down on him. A bell blared about his head and in a disoriented panic he rolled to get away from it. He felt weightless for an instant as he fell from the table. His right knee hit the floor first, taking the bulk of the impact. Bronson screamed as pain shot up his leg. He curled into a ball, grasping at his knee while the alarm bell above him continued to pound his ears.
Then the hallway went quiet except for Bronson’s moaning. He had not known there was a planned fire alarm test in the building that morning. The physical facilities staff conducted it early, assuming no students would be inside.
Bronson’s first classmates arrived at 7:50 to find him still on the floor, clutching his right knee. “You okay?” someone asked.
“It’s my knee. I don’t know if I can stand up.”
Bronson tried to get to his feet but collapsed back to the floor with the effort. One of his kinder classmates helped get him up and then acted as a human crutch so Bronson could hobble to his car for a trip to the student health center.
“I’ll drive,” the classmate said. “It’s lucky you’re parked in the handicapped space.”
After an exasperating wait, a doctor finally examined Bronson and his X-rays. “Looks like you’ve got something between a sprain and torn meniscus,” the doctor said thoughtfully as he felt the injured knee. “How did this happen?”
“I was asleep on a table and a fire alarm went off. It surprised me and I fell.”
“This morning?”
“Yeah, before class.”
“Why were you there so early?”
Bronson hesitated. “Well, it’s kind of a long story.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” the doctor replied. “Now the best thing for your knee is to keep it immobilized. We’ll give you a brace and some crutches. You should bend it as little as possible for a couple of months. Let me ask you, have you been getting regular exercise?”
“I dunno. Not really,” Bronson answered elusively. “I’m kinda busy with school.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad. If you were more physically active, I don’t think the injury would have been so bad. Even walking a mile a day would do wonders. Remember that when you’re off the crutches.”
“I’ll try.”
“For now, we can get you a handicapped parking pass so you can park near building entrances.”
The health center staff fitted Bronson with a knee brace and gave him the note for his pass. He awkwardly drove to the parking office and they gave him a cardboard rearview mirror hanger valid for the remainder of the semester.
“My own pass,” Bronson thought happily to himself. “At least some good came from the pain and suffering.”
The next day, Bronson’s first class did not start until 9 am. He bypassed his grandma’s house and did not arrive at the faculty parking lot until 8:50. He smugly showed the guard his pass and his crutches and then drove straight for the building entrance where his class would be held. The two handicapped spots were already filled.
“What is this?” Bronson yelled in a rage. “I’ll bet the people in these spots are using borrowed passes! What am I supposed to do now?”
Bronson drove around until he found an open handicapped spot far from his classroom building. He struggled with his crutches and was late for class. He moped for the rest of the morning and squeezed as much sympathy as possible out of his fellow students.
“You know what the worst part of this is going to be?” Bronson said with self-pity. “Now I have to show up extra early to get a decent a parking spot.”
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