Last Thursday I was explaining to fellow volunteers that when coming in for a work shift at the convention center, parking on the east side (of the highway) is readily available. There were many doubtful looks as the east side is the beginning of the "bad part of town", as if that really applied in Austin. So I explained that in all my many years of parking over there, only once had I been offered oral gratification in exchange for crack money. She asked, I demurred, encounter over. Easy as that. Despite this, my fellow volunteers remained largely unconvinced. More parking for me I guess.
Friday night marked encounter number two. As I walked down the street back to my car, a shuddering, clanking rust-pile that could be charitably referred to as a car pulled up beside me. The following conversation occurred.
Woman: Hey man, wanna buy some trees?
Woman: You know what that is right? It's weed.
Me (entirely in my head as I wordlessly walk away from her): I know what trees are. I just don't want to buy your crappy skunk weed at outrageously inflated "SXSW" prices.
Woman: Whatever man.