Seriously?

It's a quiet day on the South River, with a bit of breeze.  Few boats out there -- lots of sea room.  Most importantly, it's pretty cool -- in the 40s.  So why does the D-Bag driver of a center console feel the need to get within yards of me and give me a 2 foot wake in his urgency to come to nearly a dead halt once past me to go fishing?  I had time to turn into it and avoid the worst of the splashing, but it would have been miserable if I hadn't.  Ugh.  Some people.  (Every power boater needs to spend some time in a vessel vulnerable to wakes to gain a little empathy.)