There’s crazy. And there’s SF.

San Francisco trolley stop. Around 2 or 3 p.m. Slight drizzle. Slightly buzzed. Wife’s across the street using the ladies’ room.

Random Dude:  “Yo man, you wanna buy some posters?”

Me: “Nope.”

RD:  “Ah come on man!  Take a look at my posters!  They real nice posters! You ain’t even gonna look at ’em?”

I grab the posters.

Me: “This is wrapping paper, buddy.”

RD:  “Ah no shit?  Fo’ real?  You sure they ain’t posters?  Well, how much is they?”

I look for a price.

Me: “$5.50 a roll.”

RD:  “Word?”

Me:  “Word.”

RD:  “So, uh, you gonna buy some wrapping paper off me?”

Trolley arrives.  Wife comes racing across the street.

RD: “Yo missy!  You wanna buy some wrapping paper?”

Later, near the UN Plaza on Market, Crazy Lady hops on board. She’s looking at me like she wants to chat. Two blocks down, there’s a trash can on fire. CL has her opening.

CL: “Sexual arson.  I can tell. Did you just see that? Classic sexual arson!”

She’s really excited.  I don’t like it.

Me: “Uh?”

CL:  “Don’t you remember when we were having all of those sexual arsons a while ago?  People get off on lighting stuff on fire in public!  That’s totally a sexual arson right there. Right on! Starting fires is orgasmic for a sexual arsonists! This is all documented stuff, man.  Sexual arson is real.  It’s such an intense feeling!  That stuff’s for crazy people, though.  But still, sexual arson on Market!”

Me: “Yep.  You sure do know a lot about that.”


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