I Fucking Hate Tourists

So I went downtown this morning to get coffee and a bagel, forgetting that Dave Matthews played SPAC this weekend, so the town is overrun with bro-y douche bags who drink lots of light beer and leave their trash everywhere. Also, this weekend is Saratoga ArtsFest, so the town is also overrun with old douche bags, who think that their wealth obligates them to patronize the arts. As I was sitting at the far back table of the coffee shop (because all the other ones were taken up by twenty-somethings wearing tie-dye) I think I figured out why people hate tourists. And as I got honked at by the old asshole in his Mercedes-Benz (who parked me in, I might add) for getting too close to his car, I also figured out why road rage exists. And why some people don't like old people. I let out a flurry of unintelligible curse words - some directed at myself for not actually putting his engine block in his front seat - and peeled out. I hope he enjoys his fifty thousand dollar car that he can't even parallel park. Oh, and on the way home, I had to wait for about ten jockeys and their horses to cross the street. What a weird place to live.