Sometimes, you're driving on Franklin Street and there's traffic so you're moving slowly or not at all. And then there's a homeless guy walking toward you, between the lanes of traffic, and because you were once a resident of this city and because you have liberal guilt, you try to look nonchalant in a not-ignoring-you-but-not-making-meaningful-eye-contact-either kind of way (San Franciscans, you know what I'm talking about) while inside you're thinking: (Insert your favorite expletive here), this guy looks like trouble.
And this particular gentleman of the street was trouble indeed. I'm not sure what he hit the rear window of my car with, but he broke it into 1000 tiny pieces.
On the bright side, I am okay, my kids were not with me, and I now know how to file a police report online.
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