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The Bloody Car Line

Don’t Get Me Started On The Bloody Car Line

 

It’s petty. I know. But. For. Gosh. Darn. Sake. (Trust me. I could say it differently, but there are children present, after all). . .

I digress.

What is so hard about it?

The car line.

The morning and afternoon torture-chamber. All. School. Year. Long.

Nope. It does not get better as the school year settles in. Even the “security” guard trying to manage it has failed from day one until the last bell rings.

And, ya’ll wonder why we look forward to Christmas and Summer breaks? PaLeeZe.

Why? Why?? Why???

For the life of me… I do not understand what is so hard about it? *Full disclosure* We have attended several different schools, in multiple districts, states, both private and public.

And guess what is a universal theme?

You guessed it.

They all suck.

Some are worse than others. But pretty much. Nightmare-alley.

But our most recent line-to-nowhere seems to be especially lame.

RI-DIC-CU-LOUS!

People can be rude. Like totally RuuuuuuDAH.

And, in other instances. . . just completely unaware of how their habits wreak havoc on the gazillion other vehicles lined-up behind, beside, around them, also there to dump and fetch their own precious cargo.

Don’t even get me started on the “Tesla Dads!”

This one blows.me.away.

In Kindergarten it might have been cute but in the middle school car line?

Not. So. Much.

To get out of your car in the drop lane; open your trunk; get said MS-er’s backpack, PE Bag, instrument, lunch box and then.

Stop.

And.

Hug.

Throw in a farewell wave. Only to stand and pause, lingering to watch as she disappears into the crowded hallway. (If it wasn’t a car line and this didn’t cause major back-up, I’d find it sweet and refreshing; but…)!

LAWRDy me.

It takes everything for me to not lay-on-the-horn and scream:

“Move it, DUDE!” (As if MY middle schooler isn’t already embarrassed enough)?

Pfttt.

In the grand scheme, I am COMPLETELY aware of the shallowness of this rant. It is not lost on me; how.EVER. . .

I lose my she-ott when I add-up the wasted time spent performing this twice-daily task. With a little thoughtful consideration, perhaps pulling your face out of your phone for a sec, the process could be condensed into half the time, and ten-tons of relieved frustration would follow.

That is all.

For

now.

Hug on.

*Disclaimer #1

It is not my intention to stereotype or insult Tesla Dads of America. It is my shallow opinion that “some” of these Dads tend to be Hug-o-Holics. This is in no way meant to hurt Tesla owner’s feelings or, what’s more, the men that drive them. (Just, I beg you… save the hugs for later. Drop n’ go. Keep it moving, bro!)

No offense meant. Mean it.

**Disclaimer #2

I KNOW THIS IS PETTY. I am 100% aware there are REAL problems in the world. (But, could you please just move it!?)

Written by Valli Vida Gideons on My Battle Call

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