You Have Revealed Your Weakness!! (and it shall be used against you)

So I just got out of work and I'm starving and not quite ready to go home, so I run and grab some food up the street. As I'm walking around, minding my own damn business, mentally preparing for the bike trip out of North Beach and down the Embarcadero, I am accosted 3 times in less than 20 minutes by members of the opposite sex.

It had nothing to do with me or my location, the time of day or everyone's relative drunkenness, or the overwhelming amount of sex appeal I exude after changing into dirty smelly clothes after the stressful, intense and generally maddening swim in pain lake that is my job. It was the sandwich.

I stopped to rearrange some stuff in my backpack. In front of the Hustler Club. (my mistake)
"Hey, how're you doin?" says the guy in front.
"I'm fine."
"Damn, where'd you get that sandwich? That looks really good. Hey, hot ladies, hot titties, titties and hot women, step inside..." He hands out a couple flyers.
"It's three blocks that way."
"Hot titties, boys. Hey, do you want to go out sometime?"
"No, I'm good. Have a good night."

Two blocks later I stop to throw away the wrapper.

"Damn girl, where'd you get that sandwich?"
"Right over there."
"What's in there?"
"This one is chicken."
"Do they have steak?"
"No, but they have pork."
"That's like steak, right?"
"No. Pork is from pigs. Steak is from cows." And then he stopped smiling at me and walked away because it was obvious my meat knowledge was superior to his.

I'm almost done eating my stupid sandwich, and I hop on my bike because I can now eat with one hand, and I zip down the street and weave through some traffic and because I'm not really paying attention and it's dark and I'm looking at all the fun shiny mayhem going on around me I almost face plant right in front of Enrico's.

You know, just imagine it - Enrico's is open to the street. Everyone in there can see if you do something stupid, say, get your tire stuck in a track and swerve sideways and topple (though gracefully) headlong into some drunk frat boys. And of course, a friend of mine is working that night, and sees the hilarious yet potentially life threatening mishap and runs outside to see if I'm ok.

But did I get a "Hey, Eve, are you alright?" or "Eve, here's your bag" or a "Goddamit O'Neill, watch what you're doing?" as any rational and loving friend/enemy/acquaintance would have the social graces to offer? No. All I got was "Hey...where'd you get that sandwich?