This is why I love living in Florida and also why I carry my camera at (almost) all times:
That’s one impressive parking job. It tops even my line-impaired attempts on campus. They’ve almost succeeded at creating a brand-new spot!
I love the fact that they’re clearly handicapped. Now, if you’re disabled, should you really be in such a hurry? Maybe that’s how they lost (part of) their mobility to begin with. I can only imagine them flying into the spot:
“Quick, honey, I’ll pop the trunk, you grab the [wheel] chair as soon as we stop. Just like we practiced at home! [Clap] BREAK!”
I love bananas too… but really. This is just showing off.
Speaking of “showing off;” you can’t really tell from the photo but the trunk was totally open. Like they ran back there to get their walker and were in such a hurry they forgot to slam it shut. Which is usually the best part of using your trunk!
Unfortunately I didn’t have the balls to actually peek into it. ‘Cuz you never know what you’ll find in there.
I remember working with a slack-ass named Dominic during my pest control days. After “working” for years and never succeeding in accomplishing any “work,” he was eventually fired. One day another co-worker found Dominic’s truck at his home in North Port when he should’ve been in Naples. I guess this was one insult too far as far as my boss was concerned.
So she called him on the phone waking him up to alert him to the fact that he’d been terminated. As she did this we had dropped off another co-worker at his house to drive the truck back. Opening the chemical box revealed the stuff of legends. Instead of supplies of hexaflumeron, or later novaflumeron, chemicals he should’ve been carrying, he had stocked his truck instead with ample supplies of porn.
He had everything; we were all quite impressed that he wasn’t into those pedestrian magazines. No Playboys or Penthouses for him. Only Big Black Asses, Foot Fetish and others whose names I can’t recall. As one boss noted, “Well, at least he knew what he wanted.”
I knew what I wanted; not to have to help clean out the rest of that truck! That there ain’t a carpenter ant bite Tom, that’s gonorrhea!
This is what ran through my head as I was thinking about popping the trunk. And later, as I bought bananas. Deftly searching around the store for anyone pushing a walker or riding in a wheelchair.