It happened today. One of them caught me.
Regardless of the cause (and even if I agree with it), I will do pretty much anything to avoid street activists, including, but not limited to: crossing the street, ducking into a store until they prey on some other unsuspecting soul, or carrying on a serious conversation with my they-don't-know-the-battery-is-dead cellphone. But the one thing I can't do is be rude, so if eye contact is made, I'm dead in the water. Sure, you excitable college student, you. Tell me all about your good cause.
I do respect their general enthusiasm - and am somewhat envious of it, in my own introverted way - but I am like the street activist's worst nightmare: the faster you talk, the more I disbelieve you. Sorry, Dave. You crammed too much into one minute. Blame the bus schedule. (I did.) I had to go.
(Also, calling me "rainforest girl" was not endearing, as was asking for my money before asking for my contact information. Would you ask a girl to buy you a drink before you got her digits? Come on. Better luck with the tourists, my friend. #donthasslemeimlocal.)
I am also, apparently, a grumpy old man. ;)
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