This just in, via The 80s Desk.
So Yours Truly is wending her way down one of the famed Middling City expressways (in quotes as it has a few pesky lights, a few moments where one must careen out of the way of those who are merging meagerly from stopsigns, a lower-than-normal speed limit) and is sitting at the light at Parkside Avenue, heading toward the east which will bank off to head out to the north, to the marshy campus of Middling City U.
Being ever-vigilant, I glance over at the car in the parallel lane, an oddly-coloured (let us say it was a pinkish terra cotta, a beige) TownCar with a torn ragtop. There is a heavy bleachedblonde sitting in the back seat looking out at me. In the front seat I see two equally-heavy men. They are all in their 50s. I note that the woman is rubbing her nose non-stop, she looks fairly haggard. In the front seat then I note the driver is handing a pack of cigarettes to his front-seat passenger. But no, it is not a pack of smokes, it is a faux pack of smokes. The passenger shakes some white powder onto his crumpled hand and takes an exaggerated Sniff.
The faux pack is white, baby blue, navy blue. The trio screech away from the now-green light, heading towards the airport, to, undoubtedly, parties parties beyond.

Love them slices of the 80s.