So there I was in a Nob Hill parking lot behind a rainbow painted car with an Om on the trunk, when a couple walked by. She was late 20s, he at least 65. Unaware of my presence, they kissed giddily and she tugged on one of his greying locks. "Oh what's this?" she asked pulling a strand away from his face. "Hey it's bird poop," she crooned. "That means you're blessed." Clearly the man had not heard of fortune-infused bird poop, so she said, "Yeah, in some... you know, cultures... bird poop is a sign of good luck."
A couple minutes later, some guys walked past me on their way to a mini-van parked nearby. "I wanna get a really convincing dog... head... a mask... and then some paws," said the one with the ear spacers. "And then, you know, drive around."