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You Can’t Park There. You’re Not a Veteran. Get the Hell Out of that Spot. Or, a Reminder About What Memorial Day Really Stands For.
I was just stepping out of my Honda in the Home Depot parking lot. The space was clearly marked for veterans/military. The man was standing a few cars down. His face was bright red.
He was pissed.
Gesticulating wildly at me.
Menacing, even.
Look. I don’t carry my DD214 with me at all times, like papers I have to show to the authorities when I cross a state line. This isn’t Russia. My Idiot-in-Chief is doing his best to sell us off to them, but not yet.
Nor do I have to prove who I am to every Tom, Dick and Harry who happens to want to challenge me.
My license plate is clearly marked. I’m a disabled veteran. No hubby. No brother, daddy or cousin.
I served.
I just happen to be female. And, I’m not in a wheelchair.
That, apparently, is what set this guy off.
“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TAKING A VETERAN’S SPACE?” he hollered, coming closer. Ready to do battle over a parking space in a Home Depot parking lot.
Really, man?