"Hi, is Bob there? I'm sorry, I'm looking for Bob. Bob? Oh, excuse me, do you know which doorbell is Bob's? I'm sorry to bother you, but..."
Fish market. We watched a man use a net to pull out a big fat fish for one customer. Just as I was saying to Clint, "does he kill that right h...", an arm holding a huge rubber mallet flew up, and WHAM-O! Even though the prospect of fish that fresh sounded good to me, I felt a green & shakey for about 20 minutes after. Bleah.
On to the butcher case. This guy kind of growled at me. Not much of a language barrier there; though I don't understand a word of Chinese, I'm pretty sure he said "put that camera away, white girl, or I'll grind you up with sage and sell you for $4.59/lb." I did as I thought I was told.
This sign was on the wall in the ladies room of the public library. Is "menstrous" even a word? I had to look it up; it is a word. However, I think to be used properly here, it should be "menstrouses." And there was no box there anyway.
Little tip for those of you that haven't visited Chicago's Chinatown: There are no public restrooms. Ask for one, and every shopkeeper will send you to the library. I suppose you could slip into a restaurant in an emergency, but I always feel obligated to stop and order at least something to drink, which in turn sends me hoofing it back to the library.
Last but not least, this sign brought out the Beavis and Butthead in both Clint and me.