Chugging Along

After at my San Francisco hotel late last night, I was told that they’re actually out of rooms. However, they told me, their sister hotel across the street would accommodate me. So I took my wheely and my computer bag and set off to cross the great divide. Along comes one of San Francisco’s homeless guys to ask me for… I assumed it was for money, and already started making a mental note to myself that this was not the time to pull out my wallet. Just refuse and keep walking, I told myself. But no, he was asking for a cigarette.

I wasn’t smoking, I don’t smoke, I have no idea why he asked for it. Maybe he was just trying to strike up a conversation? Wanted to discuss Kant late at night? Seems like you can’t be accepted for homeless status in San Francisco without finishing a PhD first. Perhaps an M.S. as a minimum.