First, you have to know how much I hate to be hot. I HATE IT. When hot, I become furious and mean and itchy and snap at people.
The downtown Portland shopping and in-out, in-out from store to store was making me hot. My rain coat keeps me warm, which is not good on a rainy day that is also 55 degrees (this is warm to a Westerner). Up four flights of stairs to my car in the lot, and I had the windows rolled down for some air, puttering toward the freeway entrance.
When I was panhandled WHILE SITTING IN TRAFFIC.
That's a new low, even for the clean, intelligent-looking, 21 year old young man with matching clothes and a Helly Hansen backpack. Does it seem remotely likely that walking up to my open window as I'm easing off the brake, and asking for change, is going to elicit a "yes"?
Gah. Chalk it up to Sunday Blues, perhaps.
I just gave a firm "no" and kept all commentary to myself - 'tis the season, after all.