What can be said about getting stuck on Brickell Avenue traffic that can't be summarized in a series of loud grunts and unintelligible cries of pain? It's always a steamy summer's evening, you just finished up a shitshow day at work, and all you want to do is return to your humble abode to roast a doobie. But standing in your way is that serpentine line of vehicles down Brickell, and it's slithering along at 2.53 miles per hour. You have two choices: get riled up and tailgate some other poor schmuck or kick back, put on The Very Best of Yanni, and hope that the Bayside Miami aliens deploy a tractor beam to abduct every last vehicle standing between you and your apartment. Argh! Blech! Fkokendrugle!