As we exited the train station in Chicago, people on the street started handing us free sample pouches of Ibuprofen.
"Oh my gosh," I said to my family, "they're handing out drugs on the street."
It was supposed to be funny, but I don't think anyone heard me. I didn't take any Ibuprofen. I keep some in my purse, and I didn't want to talk to the people or figure out what they were selling or why they were handing out free pain relief.
Throughout the day we also encountered various people who were somehow connected with Barack Obama's presidential campaign. "Would you like to help Obama?" they asked as we passed, trying to hand off some sort of pamphlet. To me, whether or not I want to help Obama is beside the point. I don't like people accosting me on the street.
To the first person who asked me this question I replied, "Sorry, I don't have time today," and kept walking. As we approached the art museum, however, I saw another Obama salesman getting ready to pounce.
What if we weren't even American? I thought. What if we were Russian or something? Then what would he do? He couldn't do anything.
"Would you like to help Obama?" the man asked.
"Sorry, we're Canadian," I lied.
My family was surprised at my response (because I'm normally very saintly and never tell a lie, of course), but it allowed us to all walk by the man without being bothered, which was my intent. I did feel bad for a little while... but it was a lot more fun than just saying no.