There is a man outside the window pushing a shopping cart full of plastic bottles and he is holding an umbrella over the bottles as he walks because it is raining. He is going into the middle of the street now and cars are driving towards him. The cars stop and wait patiently for him to cross the street, but the shopping cart man does not want to cross the street. He wants to walk down the god damn road. Why can’t the cars understand that? The shopping cart man is not to be fucked with and to illustrate this point he slams the cart directly into the polished grill of a 1997 Buick LeSabre.
The 1997 Buick LeSabre won Car & Driver’s four star safety rating, an honor usually reserved, in those strange and violent years, for Volvos. In response to the shopping cart man’s attack, the 1997 Buick LeSabre deploys its remarkable arsenal of airbags.
Now the driver of the 1997 Buick LeSabre is getting out of the car. The shopping cart man is very upset as he finds his forward progress stymied by the 1997 Buick LeSabre’s impressive curb weight of 3,490 pounds. The driver yells into the shopping cart man’s ear, and, when that seems to make no impression, the driver hikes up his low-rise Marc Ecco denim trousers and, using an expert combination of force and leverage, overturns the shopping cart.
Bottles are all over the street now. Some of them are plastic.
The driver takes a picture of the shopping cart man with his cell phone and says something else. It is my assumption that the owner of a 1997 Buick LeSabre has more pressing things to do at midnight on a Saturday than to try to squeeze blood from a cart pushing turnip, and is perhaps planning to turn the work over to some less fortunate driver, perhaps someone who drives a 1989 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.
Traffic is moving now as the shopping cart man realizes that his perception of his place in the world needs revising. He is sitting down on the curb outside, looking at his bottles. They are wet now, and so he throws his umbrella into the gutter.