Sick of commuting

On the drive into work this morning, I was stopped at a red light. This was unusual because, oh…wait…no it wasn’t.

I hate red lights.

There were three or four cars in front of me as we all sat there for around half an hour waiting for the fucking lights to go green. After a few minutes the driver in front of me opened their1 car door and appeared to vomit directly onto the tarmac.

Classy.

Then again, this is Las Vegas during the days between Christmas and New Year, so I suppose it’s not that unusual, right? There is a lot of drinking going on around this time.

What concerned me the most was that I was worried more about rolling my tyres [tires] through their previous evening’s poor fast food choices than the fact the driver might still be drunk.

Then it occurred to me that maybe the driver hadn’t been sick at all, but had simply dumped out their coffee cup.

That made more sense as I could see there was a little bit of steam rising from the dark puddle of questionable fluid slowly spreading out across the road.

Then the lights turned green and the traffic started to move.

As I approached the puddle of coffee I decided to drive around it, no longer concerned about the level of inebriation of the driver, but by the fact the ‘coffee’ appeared to have some lumps of – I want to say – carrot?

So, not fast food then.

Which is it? You be the judge….

1 – I didn’t see the driver, so let’s play the pronoun game!

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