If Dante was correct, and there are nine levels of hell, then I was currently residing in the fifth circle of hell: the circle of anger. Stuck in traffic for two hours on a black pavement river, the more agressive would honk and yell while others simply sat and grumbled and smoked their cigarettes, like the fighting and the drowning in the river Styx. It was pure misery, and I sent a big fuck you to the Furies who did their jobs so well. Stuck behind a big rig truck carrying fat ass shit from Hostess.