"Man, I hate the winshield-washing guys," I told Lan as the windshield-washer approached the car while we waited at the stoplight. "I mean, I understand they're trying to make a living, but it's so frustrating that you have to deal with these guys at every light. They're really aggressive, so you have to like yell at them to stop."

"He's coming! Pretend like you're asleep!" Lan said.

The windshield-washer approached, waving his squeegie. He was wearing a tie, a polo shirt, and a couple of missing teeth. We both looked away, and Lan moved up a few feet to pass him. He wandered over to the next car.

"I bet he could get more money if he waved a hammer around instead of that squeegie," Lan said. "Like 'Ya betta give me some money or I'm-a gonna smash ya winshield in!' I bet that shit would work way better."

"Yeah."

But before he could reply, we were attacked by giant space birds, and the entire happening was of little consequence.