Shortly after failing my psych. 101 final, I drove my lame butt downtown. I payed nearly five dollars for my iced drink and began walking down the the sidewalk of Lincoln street. Tourists from the first tourship of the summer were flooding the warm sidewalks of Sitka. As I walked I heard two elderly Native men exchanging fishing stories while lounging on "the wall." I overheard a British woman speaking of the "brilliant view" that could be seen from the lawn near Rain Country.
I watched several tourists wander out into the middle of the road, stand on the yellow line and snap hundreds of pictures of the church. I observed old men slumped in lawn chairs outside giftshops awaiting their knick-knack searching wives. One woman in a swishy-suit stopped right in front of me, looked down at her map and said to her hubby (wearing a matching swishy-suit), "Well, Garth, if we want to see the Russian Dancers we need to go back that way because the show's at 2. But if we just want to go to Castle Hill, then we're on the right track..."
-Oh, decisions, decisions. A group of Russians had a picture frenzy in front of the giant, stuffed, brown bear outside the Bazaar.
As annoying as the terrorists can be, they actually made Sitka feel fresh on such a beautiful day...