Finally, we got to the Taco Bell, and I again invited her to move, emphasizing that it was not optional. She refused again. She started bobbing her head back in forth in that gesture that always reminds me of a pigeon: "What I NEED to do right now is not MOVE at ALL." She actually did the "talk to the hand" gesture, too.
"Look, why can't you just move over to the window?!" She started yelling about how she needed to just be still, "and not MOVE one MOTHERFUCKING INCH."
"Sweetheart, you move your skinny ass six inches to the right or you'll be moving it six feet in whatever direction I throw you." Her friends looked like deer in headlights.
"Goddammit, I work in customer service, and I KNOW you can't talk to me like that, and if you keep talking to me like that I'll see that YOU get fired."
"Fuck you. Try it. Get out of the cab and throw up in the parking lot."
What killed me was the sense of entitlement radiating off of all of them. Damn kids. Yeah, I know, next I'll be telling them to get off my lawn.