For the most part, I don’t disagree with Hitler’s actions. What I disagree on was his choice of victims. Jews are awesome, gays are fabulous, and the handicapped don’t really need any more shit piled on them. If the Third Reich decided to gas and bury all those shitty drivers clogging up every intersection from Kendall to Aventura, I’d be Heil Hitlering my ass to work with a normal blood pressure.
Six years ago, I wrote about five symptoms of vehicular assholery, and I’ve decided to revisit the topic with five more that have been <pun>driving</pun> me insane lately. It’s one of those things we’re simultaneously aggravated with and proud of. Whenever someone from any other American city says, “my city has the worst drivers”, you want to remind them that your typical Miami ref doesn’t even respect traffic signs in a language they can actually read.
Enough foreplay, let’s get to it.
First, let’s see the legend.
As you can see, it is pretty self explanatory. The white car shows [currently] innocent drivers, the booger green car is your sweet little ride with a sun roof, and the orange-red car belongs to Satan’s ejaculate: The typical Miami driver.
My eye is twitching just thinking about these.
Mr. Fuck You, I’m On My Phone
In our egalitarian society, this should never happen. People who do this should be publicly shamed for their complete disregard of other human beings. The person right behind the dick will usually inch as close as possible, getting so close to their tailpipe that a good lawyer could claim it’s sexual harassment, but that’s as far as they’ll take it. They’ll never honk on your behalf, though, because it’s not their problem. It’s your problem.
When the light turns green, the worst ones will make that slight right turn onto that street anyway, because they were too busy on their phones looking up directions the whole time.
The people who chill in the parking lot
This one isn’t a driving infraction, but I’m sure you’ve all experienced it. Picture this. You’re in a crowded-ass parking lot driving around looking for a spot on a Saturday afternoon. Some places are particularly prone to this, and I don’t want to name names, so let’s just say it rhymes with Costco. You’re looking for any spot in the Costco parking lot; far as hell, close to the front, the center, wherever. There are no spots. You manage to get behind someone walking to their car. They see you, make eye contact with you, look into your fucking eye sockets and connect with your soul in a way that only your parents or spouse ever have, and they continue walking to their car. You maintain your course. They get to their car, and put their groceries in there. By the time they finish and get inside their car, you’re leading the biggest vehicular conga line in the Eastern seaboard. It’s only a matter of time now, you’re going to get that sweet spot. You see their red brake lights turn on, and you’re excited. You wait.
OMG WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING THIS PIECE OF SHIT SO LONG.
He didn’t look into your soul the way your love does, he looked into your soul the way murderers do. Everyone in line behind you is livid, but you hold strong because it’s your spot. The honking behind you begins. Then the aggressive ones drive through the opposite lane to pass you. You can’t handle it anymore, so you leave because that dickhead is clearly either solving a sudoku puzzle or creating one.
Then right after you leave to begin the hunt for another spot, he pulls out and the guy behind you gets it.
The entitled merger.
I haven’t seen a merge with more “because fuck you, that’s why” panache since Comcast bought NBC. The sense of entitlement that comes with this one is astounding. It’s like if you were in line at Publix and it’s pretty long: would you just casually walk through the closed lane next to you, then come out near the front and just silently butt in front of the next person in line? If you answered yes, you’re a sociopath. Ballsy, but a sociopath.
This one is more permissible in normal streets, but on a highway you’re just slowing down the highway’s flow, which brings me to another point…
Slowing down on the highway.
Have you ever been on the highway, hit a traffic jam, then at some point the jam clears up through what you can only surmise is evidently the blackest of magic because there was no accident or bottleneck in an exit? That’s caused by come mierdas who slow down on the highway. Some common reasons:
They’re going to miss a turn, so rather than taking the next one they slow down, almost murder 12 people and leave behind eight orphans when they cut across three full highway lanes, and cause a jam in the process.
“I need to Snapchat the guy next to me picking his no–oh shit I almost hit the HOV barrier.”
Hell, this morning I drove behind someone who tapped their brakes so much I thought I was behind a Chinese seamstress with crazy muscle memory.
Hazard lights in the rain.
What kind of third world ignorant-ass immigrant weird panicky bullshit is this? You know what hazard lights are for? They’re to tell other drivers, “hey, there’s a hazard here, stay clear.” Not to say, “RAIN FALLING! WATCH OUT OK!!1?” You don’t need to warn other drivers of the rain as if they weren’t already aware of it. You won’t use a turn signal to give people info they wouldn’t otherwise get until they’re seething with rage when you cut between them and the car that’s barely a car-length ahead of them, but you’ll turn on ALL of your turn signals simultaneously when you stay in your own lane? What about just using your regular fucking lights that are on the same four corners as the hazards?
Even though hazards while moving are illegal (the only exception is during funeral processions), this is the logic employed by those people:
Yeah I’ve done one of those before, but whatever.
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