The tourists are coming! The tourists are coming! And according to a leftover hippie I had to patiently wait in line behind at the Haight Street Smoke Shop (which carries cigs for a mere $3.75 a pack), the French tourists are coming, and he thinks they are the worst kind.
Most importantly, I have to tell you that this: hippie-still-here-from-the-Summer-of-Love did a complete Jedi mind trick. After I finally pummeled through a group of tourists at the door and arrived at the counter, Leftover Hippie was engrossed in a one way conversation with the clerk. He was going on and on about a hand injury, which was causing him to be extremely slow to draw the money out and hand it over (in my opinion the problem wasn't his hand, but I digress). Then he continued his ramble, enlightening the bored and desparate clerk on how impatient other customers get while he tries the best he can to manage his hand dexterity just enough to pull out and set down money. I am about to start fidgeting exageratingly and huff and puff, because he obviously doesn't see me waiting, when his word (impatient... impatient.... impatient) starts to soak into my brain. So I don't fidget, and I don't huff and puff, and I stand idly by. Jedi Mindtrick!
Leftover Hippie starts pontificating on the tragedy of the arriving French tourists, but the clerk is Over It, decides to completely ingnore him, and helps me instead. Thank you Mr. Clerk!
By the by, French tourists happen to be my favorite kind, being a francophile and all. Alors, bienvenue, et vive les touristes!
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