Well after five or six of these incursions, and not enough room for me to punch it to get the hell ahead of this menace to navigation, finally the idiot just starts The Drift. The one that ISN'T ceasing until they attempt to occupy the same physical space that you are. So I had to lay on the brakes, and laid on the horn while I was at it. Not the "hey there" beep for a minor infraction, but the prolonged, solid "ASS! YOU JUST ATTEMPTED TO DRIVE INTO MY CAR" honk. Usually that one gets you a twitch of the wheel from the offending party if they didn't really know you were there, but this clown? Not so much as a flicker. No, he knew damn well I was there, and when I didn't "get the hint" to slow down so he could move over by his little forays into my lane (without turn signal, mind you) earlier, he just decided to drive straight at me and observe the results. Grrr.
So as soon as I've nailed the brakes hard enough to avoid him hitting me, I shift lanes to the right and accelerate to NOW get the hell ahead of this menace, and I swivel my head like a .50-cal to give him the full weight of the Evil Eye as I drive past. And holy shit, this clown IS A CLOWN. Complete with enormous radioactive-banana-yellow curly wig, and oversized lapels, and a bigass plastic flower in his shirt. No nose or makeup on, so I guess he was going to put that on when he got to the party. But anyway, yes, "that clown that cut me off in traffic" REALLY WAS A CLOWN. Fucking weird.
And as I'm doing my best to bore into his skull with the evil eye while I pass him on the right, head cranked 90 degrees to the left to stare directly at him, he just flicks his eyeballs to the right to return the gaze with some of the most unadulterated pure loathing for humanity I've ever seen. This is a gaze that says "yes, I knew you were there. I just didn't fucking care. Why bother with a turn signal? Why bother speeding up to get in front of you, or braking to get behind you? YOU care enough to get out of the way. YOU aren't wearing a fucking urine-colored fake afro on your head, YOU aren't going to get screamed at by some bourgeois bitch's bored rug-rats for the next two hours, and *I* just... don't... give... a fuck." Yup... all that, said in a single minimalist deadeyed stare.
And hey, I can sorta see his point. I AM glad that I'M not the one that's gonna have to try to entertain five or ten or twenty screaming snot-nosed brats that almost certainly aren't going to think a clown is the coolest thing ever, on a beautiful Saturday that could have been spent doing something, anything, other than that.
I still hope one of 'em bites the fucker, though.
