A van with handicapped plates hovers, looking for parking. There is none. The two handicapped spots are filled. One by another van with handicapped plates. The other, by a Lexus with no handicapped plates, sticker or tag. An older woman with tragic amounts of plastic surgery sits behind the wheel, running the engine, listening to the radio so loud, it's painful. I shrug at the van driver, who smiles and shrugs back. He points at the Lexus and shakes his head.
A 40-something woman, maybe a size 0, wobbles out of CVS on spiky slides. She has an artificial tan almost as terrifying as her platinum extensions and massively fake hooters, held in place by a glittery pink halter top. She is adjusting her denim miniskirt as she approaches the passenger side of the Lexus. Taking in the gesture exchange between the van driver and me, she stops.
Boob-job: "What? What? WHAT? You got a problem?"
Me: "Well, yeah. The van driver needs a handicapped space for his car. And your vehicle has no handicapped designation."
Boob-job: "Oh screw you! My mother is handicapped! Can't you see! She just had a face lift and she can barely see!"
Me: "Omigod. Then why is SHE driving?!?"
Boob-job, with venom: "Oh fuck you. We're leaving."
Boob-job then angles herself into the car - a drawn-out, hilarious effort thanks to the tightness of the skirt and the height of the shoes (which the van driver and I watch with amusement.) Boobette gives me the finger from behind tinted glass, and then Blind Lemon Facelift takes off, putting the car into drive, directly up onto the sidewalk, smacking her car into the large handicapped parking sign. I look back - the van driver is laughing so hard, he must be nearly peeing himself.
And, with a flourish (and about 7 or 8 turns) the fine women of Bethesda were off, leaving a slime trail of class and finesse behind them.
The van driver was still laughing when I pulled away.
Gotta love stupid people. They certainly make the world more interesting...