"Cart Narcs", Caregivers, and Concerns About Handicap Parking
- Valerie Bourdain
- Feb 21
- 6 min read
Updated: Feb 23
Saturday, February 21, 2026: It's my Birthday Week, and I've already spent a couple of mindless, lazybone hours watching YouTube videos. Nostalgia washes over me. It seems like just yesterday I was six years old, and Saturday mornings were a magical time, filled with hours of Looney Tunes characters. It was a respite day from the Monday-Friday school schedule that started with lumpy oatmeal and ended with nighttime homework. Education was the primary focus for my parents – not my love of television. In the early 1960s, Saturday mornings welcomed an overflowing bowl of Tony the Tiger's Frosted Flakes that I could slurp down in front of the telly. (No wonder I was chubby.) I'll be 69 on Friday the 27th, and Cart Narcs is the current time rabbit hole I'm slipping down on this cold Nebraska day. My senior menu is a steaming hot café au lait and a bowl of creamy and cholesterol-lowering oatmeal. I guess the more things change... the more they stay the same. Regardless of my age, I'm a dedicated Saturday morning TV junkie, and I'm still eating morning oatmeal (creamy, not lumpy).
Cart Narcs features the controversial YouTuber “Agent Sebastian,” who posts hundreds of videos of himself confronting shoppers in parking lots who do not return their carts properly to the designated receptacle. He wears official equipment, which is a real-life bulletproof vest meticulously monogrammed with "Cart Narcs". Corral criminals who refuse to properly park their buggy are informed that he is an 'officially trained agent' – trained by himself. When he encounters a rogue cart next to a "lazy bones" shopper, he turns on "The Wand of Justice" (a red glow stick) and activates "The Mouth Siren" (a humorous Scooby Doo-like voice that spills out a sing-song melody of made-up words).
Sweet Jesus... it sounds like "Scoobity duppe do weedily weep skeep weep woo," and it makes me laugh every time.
As he springs into action, his body cam records every action and reaction. There are a few repentant souls who quickly do the walk of shame and return their carts, but most react in pure rage. The majority throw a profanity-filled tantrum in the grocery store parking lot because Agent Sebastian dares to ask them to move a shopping cart 150 feet or less (half a city block). He slaps those cart criminals with a "I don't return my shopping cart like a jerk" magnet on the hood or back bumper of their car, which only escalates their rage. It often ends with a high-speed exit to leave the parking lot, with Agent Sebastian dashing close behind.
His videos get millions of views. (644K Followers) The reasoning? He believes not returning your cart to the designated stall is a pet peeve of many. His mission statement: "There is an epidemic of lazy bones in America, and Cart Narcs are here to slide it back."
Misusing handicap parking spaces is a widespread problem that affects many people with disabilities. The rise of the Cart Narcs, who confront such behavior in public, has brought more attention to this issue. I don't need to agree with his methods, but there are so many good things about this YouTube influencer.
Respecting those handicap spaces does matter. In the early 90s, I served in a Sunday morning Bible Study class. It required an early arrival at an almost empty parking lot. I would pull the van into the back parking lot and choose a remote space. Like clockwork, my children would demand to hear my reasoning. I weekly echoed the same response."It's because we need to prefer others, and we are able-bodied." Listen to my keywords. "We are able-bodied."
Years later, my daughter Megan was not able-bodied. Diagnosed with cancer in 2004, her goal was to resume running five miles a day immediately following the removal of her adrenal gland. Her drive to exercise served her well, and she exceeded most life-expectancy predictions. Sadly, in 2006, adrenal cancer metastasized to tumors on her spine. Her pain was unmanageable, and every step at the end of her life was an effort. The arrival of the handicap permit was not a day for rejoicing, but a sign to a 26-year-old woman that she was steadily declining.
We had moments when the handicap pass was really a blessing. We'd pull up directly in front of a destination and park. This made the best use of Megan's limited energy and allowed us small pockets of time to eat out or shop before her next nap and scheduled every four hours pain killers.
But we also had moments of disappointment:
Handicap parking was used by those without a permit.
There was not enough handicap parking.
Shopping carts were blocking handicap parking.
There was public judgment because we were using the handicap parking, and well, Megan didn't look sick.
The photo below was taken on January 27, 2008, on Megan's Golden Birthday at Charleston's Restaurant in Omaha, Nebraska.
The day was emotional. We both had full knowledge that while it was her life goal to live to see her "Golden Birthday", apart from a miracle, it would be her last.
The advance of adrenal cancer continued to put weight on Megan, and after our nice lunch, my girl wanted to stop into Village Point in Omaha to buy some more jammies/elastic waist kind of clothes. We cruised around for about 15 minutes, and in the dead cold of a Nebraska winter, there were no parking stalls/no handicap spots available. I suggested I just let her off, and I'd park in the back. She could wait inside a store, and I'd hurry over in a few minutes. The idea of separating from me for even a moment was unthinkable to my terrified girl. At last, a spot opened up and we pulled into the stall.
When Megan rose from the passenger side of the car, right in front of the big blue handicap sign, people stopped in their tracks to the right and left of us to stare. Some of the critical Karens were moving their mouths, but words were not coming out. You know when you are being given the side-eye. The unspoken was clear. "Why do you need a handicap permit?" It should be noted that Megan was wearing a winter coat and a knitted hat, so there was not even a hint of evidence that she had been in chemo. No one could see her wisps of hair. Blasting chemo was 90 days prior. Only her beautiful brown eyes and million-dollar smile were visible. No matter what the season...winter, spring, summer, or fall, my girl was beautiful.
The felt judgment was too much for Megan. When we stepped inside the door, she broke down crying and said, "Just take me home, Mom." When it comes to handicap parking, things are not always what they seem. Megan died 56 days later.
I wasn't called in life to be a Cart Narc. I also can't make people signal their turn, refrain from slurping their food, or stop hogging the aisle at the supermarket. But at 69 years old, I can grab a rogue buggy on my way into the store and place it in the corral after unloading my cart. If I see someone older than me, or in need – like a pregnant mom with a car seat and toddler(s) – I can offer to take their cart, even if it's after I've put mine away.
If the truth be told, the more exercise I get, the more able-bodied I'll be when I turn 70. During my birthday week, return one buggy to its rightful home, and post a comment. Always remember, we don't know the battles others are facing.
Key Notes:
People often made incorrect assumptions about our handicap parking permit. We truly needed it, as it allowed Megan to go to places, even for short visits, connecting her to the outside world. In her final days, most of her time was spent in bed, and we never knew when "The Last Good Day" would come. I believe that day was her Golden Birthday.
Have Cart Narcs made a difference? @evilbeast702 wrote, "I always put my cart back, in fear of hearing a weep skeet woot weedily wee woo in the distance." @ScarlettEmeraldASMR writes, "I stopped my husband the other day from parking a cart on the sidewalk. I even did the do scoobity duppe do sound."
Sometimes I think I'm on YouTube just for the great comments! Keep being you, Cart Narcs. (Be sure to visit https://cartnarcs.com/index.html )
On A Lighter Note:
The original Scooby-Doo series debuted in 1969 - a favorite show of mine at age 12. "Ruh-roh!" was Scooby's classic expression of concern. He is also known for the word, "Zoinks!"
Did I miss a pet peeve? Click here for the 75 Pet Peeve List.
Karma, or is it Carta-ma, came for this man when he refused to return his cart.
Caregiver Concerns
Offer to pick up a caregiver's groceries. They can order online, and you can pick up and deliver to them. (They won't have to worry about tip or delivery fees.)
If they can't afford groceries, start a Meal Train or help them secure financial help. Cancer costs are devastating.
There were days in Megan's life and death journey that I was on my 'last thread'. Some caregiver moms may be shopping, and haven't had one second for themselves.
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