Sometimes, I wish that there was a way to write a strongly worded letter to every person who deserves one.
Dear Guy In My Apartment Complex With the Motorcycle:
I love a motorcycle. I really really do. I've been known to ride on the back of a bike with great joy. So I'm very excited for you that the weather is turning and you can ride yours.
I'm less excited that, in your exuberance, you like to rev your engine two or three times out of sheer joy when you come home. At 11:30 PM. Parked under my bedroom windows.
Don't make me come out there.
Formerly Asleep and Now Wide Awake
Dear Fellow Air Traveller:
There is a reason that right now, you are freaking out at the flight attendant and I am not. Would you like to know what it is? I would be MORE than happy to tell you.
I PAID ATTENTION TO THE TSA REQUIREMENTS.
So when they said ONE personal item that fits under the seat? That's what I've got.
When they said ONE specifically sized carry on? I realized that MY carry on was too big. I also know that JetBlue will allow me to CHECK an item. For free. So I checked it.
So while you are struggling with your THREE -- yes, three -- bags, NONE of which fit under the seat, and fighting with the flight attendant as though somehow your inability to comprehend the reality of air travel is HIS fault, I am very valiantly fighting my own personal battle to grab one of your bags, march to the skywalk, and chuck it out of the airplane, because from where I'm sitting? You're holding us ALL up. And that is not acceptable.
The Woman Sitting Next To You Who is Really Trying Not To Tell You Off, But Slowly Losing Her Ability To Filter Her Thoughts
Or, perhaps this:
Dear Boston Red Sox:
What. The. Hell?
Mike Lowell is RETIRED and He Plays Better Than Y'all