Dear Person Who Left A Note On My Car,
When I left the hospital after 3 hours, I was surprised to see the yellow paper on my windshield. Someone must have fender-bendered me, I thought, and they were kind enough to leave a note. (I am generally in favor of correspondence.)
But, um, no.
Apparently my legally parked, perfectly straight, exactly-within-the-lines-with-room-to-spare- on-all-sides car had somehow inconvenienced the full opening of your passenger door. But that was not how you worded it.
I had arrived at my vehicle with tears in my eyes, upset by my doctor, my lab results, the failure of my body. This was not the best moment to be told that I “completely ruined the day of a cancer patient.” Really, who pulls the cancer card in a patient parking lot? Aren’t the chances extraordinarily high that everyone in every car is sick, hurting, and crying? I remembered the last time I was there, having brought my own child for cancer treatment. Suddenly, I wished I could throw my own tears back at you. You are not special, I wanted to say. And you are a crummy driver! Can you not see that in your stress and pain you must have parked your car too close to the yellow line, and not expected anyone to fill the nearby space?
But as I read through the furious note to the crescendo of the last line, my anger left me. It was all so unexpected, and so wrong, that I burst out laughing. Doubled over in fact. Instead of guilt or anger, I felt incredibly cheered. I wiped away my tears, believing I had found the sentiment for the perfect holiday card.
“Merry Christmas You Selfish Inconsiderate Asshole!”
P.S. You misspelled “inconsiderate.” Please be more careful in the future. You never know who might be receiving your little missives.