While walking to work one morning, I ran into a group of foreign tourists at the corner of Clay and Hyde. They were holding a map and arguing loudly, each pointing in a different direction.
"Hallo… pleez?” They stopped me, waving their arms wildly for emphasis. “Excuze me sir pleez, wheech way eest Feeshersmen Wharfs? Yes?"
I smiled and nodded that I could answer their question. I pointed north, then moving my hand up and then down, said:
"Up hill... over hill.... down hill… to Fisherman's Wharf."
“Trolley?” they asked.
“No Trolley,” I said, “nice walk.”
Their faces brightened, they hastened their goodbyes and set off in earnest up Hyde Street.
When they had gone about half a block, I called after them:
“Rice-a-roni!" I shouted.
They stopped, waved, and took my picture.
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jmac1949
Lisa Scroggins
jlsathre
toritto
Deborah Young
I am Stretch
Salon.com
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