Apology #7

To the guy in the Giants jacket (the baseball Giants, the real Giants, as if I have to specify this) who counseled me and my then-girlfriend-now-wife not to take pictures of the Italian men playing bocce on the court in Aquatic Park, San Francisco, late August or early September, 2000:  I am sorry that I could not think of a wittier reposte than "fuck you" to your insult that I am "probably from the Peninsula."  When you began talking to us, "helpfully" informing us that your employment at The Chronicle put you in the know that the men playing bocce were all in the Mafia and that we should not photograph them, I thought that perhaps you were actually an interesting person to talk to.  Alas.  You turned out to be a jerk with a three-day growth, possibly homeless, who certainly did not work for The Chronicle, who was interested mainly in hassling tourists.  When I stupidly answered one of your questions by saying that we were from Minnesota, your beady little eyes must have brightened, thinking we were rubes.  What did you want?  Were you intending to ask us for money?  Or did you just want to hang out at Fisherman's Wharf and needle out-of-towners, making them feel like idiots because they did not live in The Most Beautiful City In The World.  Either way, you behaved like an ass, especially after you realized we weren't going to play, and I have wished ever since that, as you leaned on that trash can, grinning, looking me right in the eyes and saying that I probably lived on the Peninsula, that I would have answered you better than the lame, limp jab of the F-word.  I still haven't come up with a better response, and for that I am doubly sorry.  I hope that you can forgive me.