The stupid fuckhead wasn’t just in the wrong lane — they were two lanes too far, with no way out of the exit lane before the exit.
But they made space and time for their SUV’s last-second exodus, rather presumptuously borrowing the space where my car should have been. And their turn signal must not have burned out — could there be any other explanation for such an irresponsible slight?
I congratulated them on a maneuver well-executed with my horn. They didn’t seem to notice. As our cars drifted further apart, I found that for some reason I just had to gaze upon this specimen of unadulterated Miami driverdom. I glanced over and saw just the silhouette of a profile. Only but a moment later, a lighter came into view and lit the cigarette between their lips.
Not surprised, not even a little.