Older gal bundled up to the teeth in some kind of high tech rain parka with a yellow hood cinched tight around her face: so, what's there to do in town on a rainy day?
Me, after a long pause: You're looking at it.
Gal: Sit around a bookstore?
me, shrugging: That's what I do.
I mean, what? She was too old to need hand holding ("Well, the weather precludes hanging out in the park...have you thought about, perhaps, going to the CINEMA? Or you could have a nice cup of tea at one of the many downtown cafes!")...am I supposed to have the secret word that will gain her entrez to the special LOCALS ONLY weatherproof downtown haunt beneath the Mission, where every perversion imaginable is on offer to the initiated?
I find myself perpetually confounded by the infantilism of some folk, which I suspect is more a flaw in my own outlook on life than a structural problem of theirs.
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