Pot

I was riding my bike West on North Avenue today when a car pulled up next to me. The passenger, an older woman with a middle-eastern accent, leaned out her window and proclaimed "We got pot!?" 

I looked at her a little befuttled and acted as though I didn't realize she was talking to me. 

But she insisted again- "We got pot!?"

"No thanks," I said, beginning to wonder to myself  'geez, do I look like such a huge pothead that people are now soliciting me while driving?' Thoughts started simmering in my mind, like 'shoot, I should probably take off this stupid floppy hat I decided to wear today' and 'phew, thank goodness I just returned those Birkenstock sandals, because those would be a dead giveaway.'

"No, no," the driver leaned forward, pushing the woman passenger aside, who was presumably her her mother, "Wicker Park? We're looking for Wicker Park..."

"Yis! Yis! Wigot Pot," declared the mother.

Ah! And with that, I pointed them straight ahead.