Dear Car Line Cutters

Dear Car Line Cutters:

I need to get something off my chest. I loathe you. You people who cut the line incite rage and stir up violent thoughts in my otherwise peaceful and harmonious existence. I wish explosive diarrhea on you when you’re stuck in traffic and there’s no bathroom around for miles, so you’re forced to clench your buttocks with all your might in a futile attempt to stop the liquid freight train from forcefully chugging through your gastric canal on a rage fueled mission to cleanse your colon.

When you cut the line you’re telling everyone whose eyeballs are bugging out of their heads as they watch you, that you and your time is of higher importance than theirs. When you cut the car line we are all judging you and secretly hoping you get a flat tire on the way to wherever you’re rushing and that your cell phone battery dies before you’re able to call for help. When you cut the car line you make us all feel stabby, frustrated, and in need of a cocktail at 8:45 in the morning as we visualize a thousand tiny tweezers pulling out all your nose hairs at the same time.

The thing is, if it was just one time I could convince myself to get over it. We all make mistakes and we’re not our best selves each moment of each day. You should see me at homework time. I am not the best version of myself then. This, however, is not a one time thing. This happens each day. You deliberately choose to go into the drive thru lane and then not-so-subtly cut over into the drop off lane, like you think we won’t notice as we slam on our brakes to avoid slamming into the back of you. Perhaps you think your tinted windows prevent us from seeing you, much like a toddler thinks putting their hands over their eyes means we can’t see them. You’re both wrong. We can see you and the toddler. The toddler, however, is cute. You are not.

Truthfully, I want to know why you do this so I can have peace in my life again and stop visualizing your demise. Every Monday through Friday you raise my stress levels and you make me rage eat chocolate. I’m worried that one of these days I’m going to transform into the super angry mom version of the Hulk and go on a sugar fueled rampage in car line. And you won’t like me when I’m angry!

But seriously, where are you going? Are you late for work as a heart surgeon? Is your iced coffee ready at Starbucks and waiting for you to pick it up before the ice melts and dilutes your caffeine fix? Do you have a severe case of IBS and need to get back home as quickly as your minivan can get you there?

Maybe your kid is just really annoying and you’re trying to get rid of him before you snap and lose your damn mind. Hey, I get it. My kids can be pretty obnoxious too. Just this morning they were fighting over their backpacks sitting on the same seat and touching. I wanted to pull over and let them both out in the middle of the busy intersection. But I didn’t. Because it was a busy intersection and if I laid on the brakes and came to a screeching halt just because I wanted to, I would have caused a shitstorm chain reaction. It would be selfish and irresponsible of me to do that. So I growled at my kids to knock it off and kept driving until it was my turn to pull up in the car line and giddily deposit them on the sidewalk.

I sincerely hope that one day when the explosive diarrhea finally catches up to you, you will have an epiphany about what brought the gastric nightmare to life. Maybe you’ll realize karma played a role and while you’re writhing in pain praying for the sweet release of Imodium or Pepto, you’ll repent your car line sins and vow to live a life of fairness and kindness with courtesy for others.


A Car Line Rule Follower