Yesterday I was walking to the bank when I saw up ahead of me on the sidewalk about five or six grade-school age boys, in swim trunks, with Super Soakers, spraying the shit out of each other. They were with three adults. I slowed my pace, hoping they would move on before I got near them, but no such luck. They were spraying the door of the bank, the sidewalk, even into the foyer of the bank as the door was closing on someone. It was so unspeakably rude. So I'm trying to get into the bank amidst all this mayhem, and I'm getting wet, so I bark out "Jesus Christ!" The kids let out this collective "oooh" and one of them proceeds to spray my ass with the Super Soaker. I was enraged. Now, when I get angry to this magnitude I become cursed with the inability to say anything; my brain becomes overloaded with comebacks and retorts so much so that nothing comes out. So I'm standing in the doorway of the bank, wet-assed, my face burning red, and I glare at one of the adults they were with, a doughy overweight guy wearing a ratty flannel, and he says "What?" like I'M doing something wrong. In an ideal world I would have said "Your kids are fucking obnoxious brats, that's what," but in my rage I was rendered mute. If that wasn't bad enough, one of the other adults with these monsters says "It's only water." You know these are the type of people who would be starting a fist-fight with you if you even look at them the wrong way, which made me even more mad. I swear to god I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Nothing makes me more angry than kids running amok, on the train, the sidewalk, in restaurants, while their parents just look on and do nothing like it's fucking cute or something.