Dear Lady Road Ragging in the Target Parking: A Life Lesson in What Not to Do

     Dear Lady yelling out the window of your white sedan,
     My six-year old did not need to pick up any of your "motherfucking" f-bombs hurled angrily out the open window of your car when we were just there to pick up my allergy meds. And my nine-year old certainly didn't need to pick up your nasty, entitled, impatient, profanity spewing attitude. Yes, I understand that you were annoyed that the man in the gold sedan wouldn't move over in the narrow parking lane so you could maneuver your car to one of the better spots closer to the front door. I'd be really frustrated too and most likely quietly muttering a few of those choice words under my breath so my kids didn't hear them.
     However, it did not warrant you screaming like a banshee out the window that you were going to "Cut you mother-fucker" if he didn't back up. Nor did it merit a trip out your door to bang on his window and continue to threaten to beat the shit out of him among many other disturbing acts you promised to visit upon the said mother-fer.
     My nine-year-old tried to dive back in the car cowering at your tone and threats. And I had to run for the door with my hands over my younger sons ears as he whimpered. And they are used to seeing me foam at the mouth when I'm angry and not batting an eye.
     Now, I'm not saying they haven't heard language or voices raised in anger before. Again, there mom is a hot-headed Celt and my oldest learned the "f" word on the kindergarten bus.
     But what they didn't need to see but maybe did need to learn was that there are some things worth getting angry about and then there are the miniscule, ridiculous, little nothings that over-privileged people blow up about because in America, most of us have no real problems.
      Yes, we have poverty and racial discrimination and women are still treated less than men. I am not belittling those issues. But the average middle-class American's food worries are whether or not to buy the organic cookies or the gluten free ones, not whether or not they have enough money to feed the whole family. Most of us don't have to worry about war or famine or dying of vaccine and basic healthcare preventable diseases.
     We live in a world of some much "muchness" you would think we'd be deliriously happy with the plenty we've got. But no, we are yelling in the Target parking lot because we can't wait three minutes for the gold sedan to pass into the other road so we can score our prime spot.
     I mean I don't know you and maybe you really do have some worthy problems or something bad happened that left you roiling with anger. But to jump out of your car screaming every expletive ever coined and threaten bodily harm to a perfect stranger seems like the wrong venue for your pent-up rage. And my kids definitely did not need to see you lose your shit over a lousy right of way.
     And gentleman in the gold sedan, I use that term loosely as you should have done the gentlemanly thing and backed up instead of refusing to move to prove whatever machismo fueled ego kept you stock still and in her face. She should not have been raging at you, but you were not being kind either and backing up when you were both at loggerheads.
     I didn't stay to witness the end of your vapid performance play out. I had allergy prescriptions to pick up and children to reassure. But I hope it was worth it and that your parking spot and right of way was everything you hoped for. But actually, I hope you calmed down at some point that day because no one else needed to be on the end of that rage trip, including you.
     As for my sons and I, we spent the ride home talking about how we shouldn't get angry over trivial things as you provided a valuable life lesson on how not to act. Your immature tantrum gave them a prime example of adults acting worse than kids.