None Accountability. None.

I went to Hy-Vee this afternoon to send off a few more movies from my ever dwindling movie collection. Due to the weather spewing its hatred on the earth, there is a lot of snow on the ground. This means Iowans have reverted to their annual, "Who needs rules in parking lots?" philosophies. For those unfamiliar, this means you can drive into a parking lot, stop wherever you feel appropriate, and exit your motorcar.

There are only two rules:

1) You can't park in a handicapped spot marked by a sign that is above the snow.
2) You can park in a handicapped spot that is merely painted on the ground but entirely (or at the very least, mostly kinda) covered with slush.

Unfortunately for me, this trip to Hy-Vee (an employee owned grocer if you are unfamiliar) bore no close parking fruit (which tastes similar to a marbleberry). I avoided the mish mash of autos and parked towards the back of Hy-Vee, close to a Taco Viceroys.

Doubly unfortunately for me, the shoes I wore (also known as my wedding shoes) have zero traction. In fact, they may have anti-traction, if such a level of traction exists. Every step I took could be described thusly: I started with two feet: a planted foot and a stepping foot. I planted the stepping foot and lifted the planted foot into step-ready position. The original stepping foot became the planted foot, the original planted foot (formerly a stepping foot) slid two inches back. I overcompensated by pushing the stepping foot (formerly a planting foot) out further. It was like moonwalking, only with less sexual ambiguity.

As I approached Hy-Vee, a long-haired man with crutches and a weathered face exited his car. He looked to be in his low thirties and wore one of thoes ridiculous hats with the two balls that hang down over the ears. He parked in a handicapped spot because Hy-Vee had signs, thus rule one was enforced. I tried to speed up but couldn't due to anti-traction. This meant I had to walk thirty whole seconds with a crippled stranger into Hy-Vee. Anyone who has ever talked to anyone with any sort of disability knows how awkward that can be. All they ever want is for you to ask them about what makes them different.

I said, "Hello."

He said, "Lucky you."

I said, "Yeah. I am lucky." I didn't know why. I presumed it was because he saw that I had Pineapple Express in my hand, ready to return to Redbox. I had been trying to rent it for two weeks but it was always out of stock when I wanted it.

He said, "Oh yeah. Why's that?"

I said, "I don't know. You said it. I don't like being confrontational with strangers." This isn't true. I love to be confrontational with strangers, just not invalid strangers.

He said, "You're lucky because both your legs work."

I said, "And to think most of the time, I don't use them for anything but to sit."

He said, "I slipped on the ice a bit back and broke my leg."

I said, "Your leg is broken? I hadn't noticed."

He said, "That's why I have crutches."

I said, "Oh. That follows."

He said, "Take advantage kid. Take advantage." He puffed his chest in a way philosophers do when they are being profound and prophetic.

I said, "Of what exactly?" I hoped to get a, "You don't know what it's got til it's gone," medley that would turn into a broader 80's musical medley and feature dancing Yodas.

He said, "Your health. You never know when the ice might be too slippery to step on."

I said, "That's great advice. I'm going to go now."

By this time we had arrived in Hy-Vee, and stood at the cart bay for thirty seconds to finish this exchange. He showed no understanding of my obviously facetious comments. He remained stone-faced during the entire conversation.

After doing my business in Hy-Vee, I left the store. I continued the awkward walk back to my car when I looked over at Crutchy's car. It had three snowboarding bumper stickers. Maybe it was my conversation with the melodramatic Shatterleg, but this ticked me off. I have to risk falling in a dangerous, slushy parking lot because I'm blessed with health and two working legs? So was he. He just chose to break one of his legs being Xtreme. If fake handicapped people want better spots, they should arrive earlier. Otherwise, those parking spots should be reserved for people with no legs.

And!!! (arm raised triumphantly)

Since people with no legs shouldn't be driving, those spots shouldn't exist. I think I solved a problem here without even intending to. Thank God for me.