A Major Kerfluffle

The Commander thought the rapping on the Earth Module door was Typhoid Mary,  the female bum she did not want visiting, but that was not the case.  As The Commander opened the door a stout little left over from one of our wars with a possible case of PTSD was standing there ready for battle.  Now, an explanation.  When the Kadizzles first came to our camp site last year we asked the host if we could use the handicap site.  The handicap sites have a few extra amenities, and no handicap people ever use them. So expensive sites sit empty 99% of the time. How many handicapped people in wheelchairs camp in the winter?  The Kadizzles assured the host that if a handicapped person showed up we would leave immediately.  Well that guy showed up enraged.  After explaining to the disabled veteran, who had no visible disability, and was walking, standing, sitting and moving about just fine, that again the camp host had giving us permission, and we would gladly move, the confrontation escalated.

The man threatened to call the Park Ranger, and on and on.  Kadizzle told mister grumpy he could call Jesus if he wanted to, but we had permission to use the site.  The commander acted as a calming agent. The Commander kept in mind that most nut cases are armed in AZ.  Kadizzle offered to move immediately, but Mr. unhappy said that was not the point.  The point was that we needed to admit the gravity of our sins.  At last it occurred to Kadizzled that a disabled veteran might drive into the camp site and not think to check with the host about the availability of the site.  This was a legitimate complaint by PTSD and Kadizzled agreed it could be a problem.  Kadizzle's problem was the horrendous waste of resources being wasted on sites that sat empty.

Things gradually calmed down and Kadizzle thought he might invite PTSD in for a drink.  Just as the thought wafted through his mind PTSD said " Aren't you going to invite me in for a drink?".   The Commander then said" would you like a beer?"  It took some time for PTSD to decide which kind of beer he wanted since The Commander always has such a good selection.  Now everything changed and the group became convivial.  Although PTSD was disabled he insisted on sitting down in a lotus position on the pavement.  Kadizzle and The Commander could not convince him to take a chair.

The conversation then took the typical routes and the group discussed everything under the sun.   Finally PTSD was convinced to sit in a chair.  All parted on good company.  After all was said and done Kadizzle kept thinking the whole thing was a ploy for PTSD to get some beer.

Now, here we sit still in the handicapped spot.  It is a moral dilemma.  We have permission to be here.  In two years no one has ever wanted the site, but it should probably be available for the purple heart veteran when he comes.  Although we insisted we would deal with the camp host, PTSD insisted that the camp host should be turned over to the higher authorities for his crime of using common sense.  This would be a shame, the camp host is a nice person trying to act rationally.  However, the law and common sense do not always mix, and who knows if the camp host actually is authorized to give permission.  The Park Ranger, and The Sheriff have often driven by and seem to have no problem with the arrangement.  However,  it seems our wisest choice would be to select a different site in the future.   A side note.  Most of the time handicapped sites are right next to the restrooms, which makes sense.  This one is not.  The only real accommodation for a handicapped person made at this site is pavement around the fire pit.  Unless you were wheelchair bound the pavement would be of little value.