No, just because I am here too, and happen to be walking through the Quarter, and DON'T look like I slept in a dumpster last night doesn't mean I'm a god-damned tourist waiting to hand you money because I should feel sorry for your sad-face and open hand.
Yes, this means you you obnoxious, loud-mouthed gutter-punk who immediately let's fly with a string of insulting accusations and bitterness once I ACTUALLY LOOK AT YOU, ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR PRESENCE (which is more than many in the Quarter will do) and politely tell you I can't help. If I was only mildly sorry for not helping you before I'm certainly not regretting my decision now. Good riddance!
This is my home too, although whereas I have actually lived here in this city for a time I can only assume you have flocked here from somewhere else... well, welcome to New Orleans, but when you are an entitled, white millennial I can't really feel sorry for you if you wind up like this. I will not be driven out by the likes of you.
Next time I too will SHOUT BACK.
