An Open Letter to the Woman in the Town & Country Minivan

This is an open letter to the woman driving the ice blue Chrysler Town & Country who drove people to the Middle School today.

Hello, Ms. Ice Blue Chrysler Town & Country Minivan with the LG Phone Glued to Your Head:

I woke to find a lovely, powdered sugar snow on the ground. It was a glorious morning, in that I remembered to set the timer on the coffee pot last night, Oldest Daughter got out of bed without hurting me, and Current Husband got up to shovel. I watched with delight as CH shoveled, scraped my windshield, and started the van, thus securing for himself another year of marriage. As Elliott said to Drew Barrymore about ET, "I'm keeping him."

I skipped to the van with OD, singing songs about snow, bluebirds trailing behind me with ribbons and holly in their beaks. The van was warm and toasty. Gavin Rossdale was belting out "Love Remains the Same" from the backseat. Oldest Daughter was smiling. All was well in the world. (Except for the wars, economic collapse and flu outbreak. But Gavin was not singing about that, so I stuck with the mood.)

We picked up our other Middle School Passenger, Oldest Daughter's Friend. We took our usual route to the Middle School, with OD and ODF making fun of Gavin (and Shakira, because we always poke a little fun at Shakira on Mondays). Suddenly, YOU, woman in ice blue Chrysler Town & Country (T&C), decided to back out of your driveway right in front of me. AAAHH! Hold on girls, we might have a minivan smackdown! And I've been told the brakes on my van are holding at about 25% of the brake pad left! Oh, but T&C looked up from her cell phone at the last moment and stopped, thus avoiding some Monday morning ugliness. Whew. All is forgiven, T&C. It could happen to anyone. Now hang up your phone.

We proceeded to the stoplight and turned right to get to the Middle School. I turned into the right lane, because that's what I learned in driving school. As I turned on my signal (I am a HUGE fan of turn signals, T&C, I recommend them to every driver) to get into the left lane so I could turn left into the school, I see in my side mirror that you are gunning the engine on your van so you can pass me in the left lane. You must have told the person on the phone, "Ooops! I an getting ready to hit this van again! I am such an ass!" and you seemed to slow down when you realized you were going to cut me off, AGAIN. I got into the left lane and turned into the school. All was orderly and law-abiding, again. No worries, my friend. Mr. Bluebird back on my shoulder.

There are two lanes in our Middle School 'Gauntlet of T-Pain' dropoff. Most people drive through them in an orderly fashion, realizing that everyone in line is in a hurry. We all have places to go. But not you, T&C. You must have been saying on your cell phone, "I am having chest pains and need to drive myself to the ER, but I must drop off my Middle Schooler first, and then I will actually PASS people in a two lane roundabout dropoff!!! I hope to live!!!" I watched you actually try to cut me off for a THIRD time, in a two lane drop-off where they have actually hired a police officer to make sure people don't pass other cars for the safety of the children. Even Gavin Rossdale, from the back of my van, said, "What a bitch!" The bluebirds were squawking, and I don't think it was about happiness. Fortunately, a small, vulnerable 12-year-old lugging a tri-fold display on animal cells stepped in front of your van just as you said in your cell phone, "I am going to beat everyone else out of here because I have just decided to donate my kidney to someone whose life is on the line!" Alas, T&C, you were foiled again.

I pulled out of the Middle School and got back into my happy place with Gavin. He suggested we stop at Starbucks and get a coffee. We pulled up and I walked in to get our order. I was standing back, allowing the people ahead of me to order without invading their personal space, when wouldn't you know it, YOU WALK IN AND CUT IN LINE!!! STILL ON YOUR CELL PHONE!!! This is when I lost. my. shit.

All morning I had been jockeying for position with you. I woke up with bluebirds on my shoulder and Mr. Gwen Stefani warbling love songs and a happy middle schooler, and then you revved up the T&C and plowed through my happy place like a tornado in a trailer park. I could take no more. I suppose you thought you were going to get that last Vanilla Bean Scone? Not today, my friend, not today. The rage bubbled up inside of me, and I let you have it.

ME: "Um, excuse me? I'm in line."
T&C: (Hold on Monica, some bitch is talking to me) "Huh?"
ME: "I'm in line."
T&C: "Oh." And you stepped back. Still talking on your phone.

That's right, beyotch. Don't mess with Texas! Stay down! Eat sand! Feel the fury!

I got back in the van, handed a soy chai latte to Gavin, and he said, "Way to stand your ground, Passive Aggressive Mom. Now let's go home, before she walks out of there with her coffee."

Well said, Gavin. Well said. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah this, T&C.