I attended a social function last night, hobnobbing with other canine clerics into the wee hours of the morning. As I returned home, about a 40-minute drive, those familiar pangs of hunger took hold. "Driver," I barked. "Let's pick up some food." So we stopped at Krystal, the best place in Dallas-Fort Worth to get tiny halaal burgers and chili cheese pups at 2:45 in the morning. The line at the drive-through was at least five cars long, so I chatted with my dates as we awaited our turn to order.
Then we heard the car in front of us honking, for no apparent reason. The man in the pickup truck in front of that car had just finished ordering, and he did not appear pleased to have been honked at. He stuck his head out the window and began to yell at the woman driving the car behind him. She leaned out her window and hollered back, motioning for the man to get out of her way. He refused. "I'm blocking you!" he yelled. "Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?" Each was trying to outdo the other in terms of belligerence. I considered exiting my vehicle to mediate this dispute, but since a Nobel Peace Prize seemed unlikely, I decided to let things play out.
Eventually, the truck moved up, and the woman in the car ordered her food. After my driver had ordered our meal, we pulled around to the side of the eatery, where the man in the pickup truck was getting his food. Again, the woman honked at him. The spiky-haired truck driver opened his door and leaned out, and the following exchange took place:
"What is that in your hair?!"
"It's product! Lots of product!"
"Yeah! Why don't you come up here and touch it!"
"Yeah, get up here and touch my product!"
God help these humans.