Your humble narrator is taking his trash out to the curb. It's a little after 11 pm in a ghetto suburban neighborhood in Flint, Michigan.
A bundled up young white hippie-ish guy with a wispy beard approaches on the opposite side of the road.
YWHG: Hey, is this the right way to Clio Road?
ME: Oh yeah...in fact, see that light down there? That's Clio right there. Turn right and you're heading towards Pierson.
YWHG: That traffic light down there?
ME: Yeah, you're on the right track.
YWHG: Yeah, I know this is, like Dayton Street, and it's all crazy and stuff...
ME: (pointing off to the east) Nah, that's where it's crazy. This part of Dayton's not so much crazy as kind of neurotic.
YWHG: (looking confused) Umm, OK...well, thanks a lot. I hope I don't get shot.
ME: (cheerfully) Me too, brother.