Sam’s Club: Buy in Bulk, Invent Your Own Parking Spot

Today, October 1, around 10:45 a.m., I stopped at Sam’s Club in North Charleston before heading over to visit The Bridge assisted living. Along with the usual bulk bargains, I spotted something apparently available at no extra charge: creative parking.

Two drivers had apparently decided the marked spaces weren’t meeting their needs and set up their own accommodations in the blue-striped areas.

Apparently, those stripes looked like a welcome mat. “Reserved for people with exceptional confidence.”

Now, those areas serve a purpose. People using wheelchairs, walkers, or vehicle ramps need room to get in and out safely. That thought felt especially relevant as I headed to an assisted living community. A little convenience for one person can become a major obstacle for someone else.

But here’s the part that made me do a double take: a North Charleston police officer was at the Sam’s Club entrance, maybe 20 feet away.

Twenty feet. We’re talking sample-table distance.

I don’t know what the officer saw or whether anything happened afterward, but the scene certainly had the ingredients for an awkward parking lesson.

Sam’s Club sells plenty of things in bulk. Apparently, on this particular morning, confidence was one of them.

Please use an actual parking space and leave the striped access areas clear. Your jumbo pack of paper towels can handle a slightly longer ride in the cart.

Handicap Parking: It’s Not a Suggestion, It’s a Necessity

This morning I arrived at the hospital to visit my mom. Like many mornings recently, it’s another chapter of balancing life, family, dialysis, and everything else that comes with it.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I started looking for a handicap-accessible parking spot. I have a handicap plate. Not because it’s convenient. Not because I want a closer walk.

I have one because I’m an above-the-knee amputee and I live with ESRD (End Stage Renal Disease). Some days the extra distance isn’t just a few more steps — it’s a lot more energy, more strain, and more effort.

There were no handicap spots available.

Then I noticed something.

Apparently, when the designated spots are full, someone decided the solution was simple: create their own spot.

A spot that wasn’t actually a parking spot.

Maybe they were in a hurry. Maybe they had a reason. Maybe they thought, “I’ll only be a minute.”

But here’s the thing — hospitals are one of the places where accessibility matters the most. People coming through those doors may be dealing with challenges you can see and many you can’t.

The lines, signs, and designated spaces aren’t there for decoration. They exist because someone may be walking on a prosthetic leg. Someone may be recovering from treatment. Someone may be helping a loved one while fighting their own battle.

I don’t expect special treatment. I expect people to think beyond themselves.

A little awareness and consideration go a long way.

Because one day, the spot you think doesn’t matter may be the spot you truly need.