A sign reminding drivers to stop at stop signs. It sounds stupid, but those things can spring up on you out of nowhere. You have to keep your head on a swivel.
The second is a misunderstanding on my part of what it meant to cut someone off in traffic. South Florida drivers are routinely considered some of the worst in America. The stretch of US-1 that runs through Florida is considered the most dangerous highway in America. And the most dangerous intersection in America is in South Florida.
So it makes sense that having learned to drive in this culture of bad drivers, I would have assumed that what most people consider being rudely cut off in traffic is what I consider a routine lane change. A decade into adulthood, I noticed that my definition of cutting someone off is when in an action movie a sideswiped car launches 30 feet in the air and explodes. Since I hadn't done anything nearly that awesome yet, I assumed I was a pretty courteous driver. And then I drove through rural Georgia and the outskirts of Toronto and realized I am a one-man Max Mad gang of vehicular death marauders. I drive blissfully unaware of the chaos in my wake.
Immigrants smuggle their native driving habits past airport security and onto our roads. Habits both good and bad bump up against one another to create an overall culture of confusion that could lead to such daring antics as performing a swift four-lane change at 75 miles an hour without using a blinker or mirrors because the last time the road lines were painted was three tyrannical dictators ago. On a trip to Colombia, I saw these driving habits in their natural habitat. I've been in car accidents less harrowing than routine drives to the local empanada shop. I've yet to visit my family's homeland of Cuba, but if Miami's Cuban population is any indication, the streets of Havana are a big game of Mario Kart with more screaming.