I'm Handing Out Signs...

I love Bill Engvall. His "Here's your sign" saying is most appropriate in so many circumstances. If Bill was in Salt Lake (I understand he has a house in Park City) I would appoint him the official "Sign Giver" to the following people:

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The parking enforcement officer, a woman we call "The Parking Nazi" because of her anti-equestrienne bias, was double parked on the west side of the Conference Center, writing out tickets for the illegally parked vehicles. She was stopped in the right hand lane, double parked with her lights flashing when an elderly lady, late for the concert, pulled up behind her and got out of her car.
"When you move can I have your spot?" Elderly lady asked the Parking Nazi.
Elderly Lady, here's your sign.

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I was stopped at the light at the corner of State and South Temple, waiting to make a right turn, when a van pulled up alongside me. The front seat passenger rolled down her window and asked,
"Isn’t your horse cold?"
"No," I replied.
"Really? How can he not be cold?"
"He's wearing a fur coat."
Concerned van lady, here's your sign.

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A woman walked up and down the carriage line last night, petting all the horses, and asking their names. When she got to me she asked,
"Does your horse have a name?"
"No," I replied, "I just say: Hey, you!"
Lady, here's your sign.

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A man in the same group walked up to Charlie (which is the name of the horse I was driving) looked underneath him, and asked,
"Is that a stallion?"
"No," I replied, "we rarely use any of our stallions on the street. They get a little feisty."
"Oh yes," he said, "I've seen those wild stallions in Hawaii. I'm not from here."
Obviously, sir. Here's your sign. Hold it up high so the mother ship sees it and takes you back home.

**
Last Saturday I went out to help Ro stage. It was extremely busy. Usually, I bring my metal "Carriage For Hire" sign and park in the unused east side of our staging area. That piece of prime real estate is ours. We pay for it with our yearly licensing fee, and it's where Ro parks (with the sign in her window) when she stages. I, however, forgot to put my sign in my car before I left the house that day, so I had to park at the barn, put all my gear on, walk two blocks to the train, take it three blocks to the station closest to South Gate, and walk another block to the staging area. All while wearing my 17 layers of winter wear. And I only had on one pair of socks so my feet were slopping around in my boots, making walking a chore.
Slave Driver, here's your sign…