This from my file: Friggin People?
On the first floor of the little mall where I am seated there is a US Post Office. Over the railing I notice a stylish, suited, forty-ish man going from person to person. He made his way to the second floor, and eventually to me. He asked if I had a couple dollars. He offered no explanation as to why a total stranger should give him money. I told him "No" as I noticed letters in his hand.
I told him I could give him a couple stamps if that's what he needed. He said that he indeed needed two stamps. I still snail mail cards and notes and always have stamps. I started to tear off a couple Harvey Milk stamps, (Milk, was of course, the gay San Francisco councilman who was murdered by a fellow politician. There was a major motion picture celebrating his life a few years back. Nevertheless, the postal service honors those who have contributed greatly to this country and culture.) The man interrupted me and asked "Do you have anything other than Harvey Milk, I'm not comfortable with that?"
I was speechless as he took two planet stamps, and hurried away.
I refuse to be on constant guard because the next guy could be a jerk, but goddamn if I didn't want to chase him and tackle him to the ground.