I consider myself to be a considerate, level-headed, and rational person in public — I ensure my grocery cart doesn’t block fellow shoppers and keep my eyes on the road when a souped-up F250 driver flips me off for going the speed limit. But when I arrive back at my apartment complex to find a strange car parked in my reserved, shaded space that I pay a hefty monthly fee for — which happens often — any semblance of emotional maturity goes out the window. In the rare instances I catch the culprit