Last night I was driving home and dealing with a couple particularly stupid Austin drivers. You'd think that at 2 a.m. you wouldn't have to deal with that crap, but welcome to Austin. The guy in front of me clearly didn't know where he wanted to go and he kept slamming on his brakes at every street like "Is THIS the one I want to turn on?" I noticed that now instead of shouting "good gracious" or "holy crap" or something of the like, I have developed a habit of saying "Good night!"
Happy Birthday, Mr. Taylor.