Dear People That Back Into Parking Spots

There was a time when I was afraid.  There was a time where I would go someplace, and sit in terror out in the parking lot.  I refused to leave the womb of my car, because I had no idea what the world outside held for me.  That was before I found out that there are real world superheroes.  That was before I was shown that there were people that were ready for anything.

At first, I was furious when I would see you people blocking off lines of parking area as you cautiously pulled your car in and out of a slot, try to back your minivan/pickup/1992 sedan into a spot you could have easily pulled straight into, then quickly backed out of.  I could have been indignant that you saw your time as more important than mine.

What I wasn't seeing is that all of you are the survivalists of the shopping center world.  You are ready to bug out at a moments notice.  If the fit hits the shan at the Dairy Queen, you can glide across the hood of your seventeen year old Accord and be on the highway before the Dilly bars sticks can be broken into effective shivs.  When you get out of the Sunoco with those three packs of Winstons, you'll be rumbling down the asphalt prairie sucking those bad boys down while your Aerostar hums in the breeze.

Never let anyone tell you that the thirty to fifty five seconds of preparation you are taking now is not worth the precious few seconds it will save.  Let no one call you a coward that is just too poor of a driver to be confident enough to back out of a spot.  It certainly can't be due to the fact that you have a gunrack/ten Mark Martin stickers/ five Carebear stuffed animals blocking your rear window, so you would never be able to see anyone coming if you had to back out.  You are a lord, overseeing all the concrete land you survey, and when make odd noises as I choke on the sheer venomous hatred bubbling up my throat, it is just my way of showing my reverence towards you.  When I yelled that I was going to go find a toy store, buy some marbles, slip them in a sock and then use them to begin my unholy work on your face, that is how I say I respect you.