Now it's time to call Dawson, which he does from the comfort of his car, parked on another weedy, forgotten street. This one happens to be around the corner from his house so that he can keep eyes on Boyd's spy. Dawson says people have been calling the department all day, asking for those files that Frank told them about. Frank lies that he's had a car wreck and he needs someone to come pick him up at a gas station. Luckily for Frank, Dawson calls the spy to go pick him up, which leaves his house momentarily unguarded.
Frank zooms through his house, packs up a few clothes, grabs some more cash and his passport. He's in a great rush to catch his flight to Germany – not to mention avoid the return of the spy as soon as it's discovered he is not at that gas station – and yet Frank manages to find the time to be an asshole. Frank always finds time to be an asshole. He bitches at the demolition crew that's tearing down the dilapidated houses across from his. "There was a family that lived there! The Millers! They were good people!" One of the workers flips him the bird. "Give me that one more time," Frank says. This time, the guy gives him all five fingers, right across the jaw. That guy just became my favorite character on the show. Fisticuffs ensue, with two more workers joining in. Frank ends up on the ground while the workers line up to kick him around a bit. He manages to get up and stagger away, shouting, "Great job! A job to be proud of!" Like the bank teller, this crew isn't responsible for whatever is fueling Frank's hissy fit. At first I thought there would be some method to his asshole madness, like maybe he needed to look beat-up for some heretofore-unrevealed master plan. Like maybe he was going to accuse Joe of beating him up in order to further incriminate him. And maybe his rant at the bank was also somehow a part of this plan... in some, inexplicable way. But no! He's just a big, angry jerk!
As Frank speeds toward the airport, he aims his mad ranting at streetlights and other drivers on the road. His left hand starts to bother him. He glances at his watch; he's mad at it, too, for running out of time. When he finally gets there, he has to struggle to get his jacket on. He grimaces and pounds on his chest, more like a man suffering a heart attack than the posturing gorilla he's been imitating all day. He falls down in the parking lot, wheezing for breath. A vein bursts in his eye, painting it red. Now it becomes clear that we haven't been following an entirely linear path from the start of the episode.