"What is she waiting for? GO, GO, MOVE ALREADY! Oh my god, this light isn't that long, why isn't she moving? Look.... oh, finally one car has gone through. C'mon, faster, dammit faster... bzzzt... mmmmpht.. zaaaap!"
I fully expect that to be how Mark dies. In the car, in a hurry, frustrated by texting, cell phone yakking, inconsiderate assholes. While impatiently trying to get to Wendy's for lunch, his brain will short circuit and then his head will explode. I understand, I used to be the same way. Slow moving cars and gridlock traffic would always send me into a tirade. When I was working I was always behind schedule and stuck in traffic with customers paging me, asking when would I get there. Especially in my last job. That one involved the maintenance of hospital pharmacy, computerized med distribution. Nothing is bitchier than a nurse who cannot get to her patient's meds, so I was always in a hurry. Not anymore. I'm retired and I have no deadline. I sit in traffic listening to music, enjoying being alive without a job. Mark, on the other hand, who has not worked in fifteen years, is still always in a hurry. When driving, his blood pressure goes through the roof, his body vibrates, he starts speaking in tongues, and every other car on the road is his mortal enemy. I've tried to explain to him that he needs to relax, that he has nowhere to be in such a hurry. He does not listen. So if you are ever in your car and there is a blue PT Cruiser behind you honking the horn, with a skinny man driving it cursing and screaming, wave at him. That will be Mark, and the act of a friendly wave on your part will send him through the roof.
"WHO ARE YOU WAVING AT BITCH. JUST GO, GO, MOVE GODDAMNIT!"
I think you'll be entertained.