Instead of outlining the past few days, I'll pull out a few choice moments and then maybe construct a meta-narrative. But for now, moment #1.
The amber glow coming from my dashboard reminds me I need gas, NOW. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in 5pm traffic on I-275 just outside the Tampa airport, and significant movement anytime soon seems unlikely. I'm in a merge lane, so I need to get left, and dutifully have my turn signal clicky-clacking and my window down, as I lean out, hoping for someone to let me in. I'm in a hurry, though I didn't yet know how much.
A shining navy Jeep Laredo tailgates the silver Benz in front of it purely to avoid giving me a chance to merge. Behind the wheel, a blonde hides behind enormous brown sunglasses. I watch as the passenger window rolls down, and an unshaven man with scraggly black hair and squinty eyes leans out the window toward me.
He exhales a massive cloud of marijuana smoke into my face and immediately rolls the window back up. I sneak my Jetta in behind it.
The Jeep had New York plates.
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