Walmart rage

I don't know what the hell it is about Walmart that turns civilized people into savages. Maybe it's the garish lighting, the constant hum in the background, or the fact that everyone has to tack on a half hour to their trip just to pay for their crap. Apparently, even the anticipation of entering hell gets people all riled up, because the nightmare usually begins in the parking lot.

I am not lazy. I do not mind parking in the way back and walking (except at night and early morning, I generally don't look forward to getting raped, stabbed, or shot). In general, I never even enter the front section of the parking lot. I know pure misery awaits. But the last few times I've went, my mom came with me. She can't walk long distances, so I have to drop her off out front, where I'm forced to contend with vicious close-spot seekers. A kind old woman allowed me to turn left in front of her, but I was immediately nearly hit by a large van wanting to turn left out of another spot. After barely escaping that, the car in front of me stopped dead in the middle of the road to wait for someone they saw in the distance that may or may not have been considering approaching a close spot. I inch my way past this lazy prick and am almost sideswiped by some eagle-eyed bastard who noticed an open spot nearby and was in a panic that I may actually get to it first. By this point I'm screaming all sorts of dirty words that would make my grandparents cringe if they could hear me from beyond the grave. Words that rhyme with "hunt" and "socktucker." Words that I avoid at all cost yelling in front of my son, and do fairly well, but when I'm alone I don't give a shit who hears me.

Finally, I make my way to the back lot. All that is left is to cross the street seperating the two. Unfortunately, so many people are fleeing hell that it is impossible to cross. Apparently even waiting an extra three seconds to let me through would cause them horrid pain. Can't say I blame them. Again, a nice old lady lets me through. Could be the same one, the Walmart parking lot is a lot like Groundhog's Day, an endless loop of the same faces and same shit. I take my nice little spot in the way back, happy that it's daylight and I wont be stabbed, raped, or shot, and spend my walk back to the store avoiding getting hit by people who think I may be considering getting back in my car and stealing the prime spot that they're convinced will open up at any second.

I make it into the store, where my mom is nice and comfy in her motorized scooter, and spend the next half hour watching my mom nearly run people down, pissed because they can clearly see her coming and wont get out of her way. She wonders where I get this shit from. I am now hostile and ready to beat up the first person who tries to grab a box of Fruit Loops out from in front of me, thus continuing the cycle of rage ever present in Walmarts across the country. The whole time I'm thinking "I should have just went to Target."