No hands!

I complimented a middle-aged British woman on her necklace, an unusual silver pendant. "I had it made for my son's wedding," she said. "Brilliant jeweler. No hands."
"No hands?" I asked.
"The jeweler. She has no hands." She laughed. "Then I lost it, so I had her make it again." Her husband nodded proudly. I was left with a lot of questions, but there was a long line forming.

Just chillin' on the ground. What's your problem?

A guy with a grey ponytail was sitting on a dirty blanket outside the secondary bike center. As I was going in, another hard-up guy dragging a sleeping bag over his shoulder passed by and said something. The guy on the ground got indignant and called out to me as I was in the doorway. "Do you believe that? Did you hear what he just said?"
I hadn't.
"Say that again," he said to the man walking by, like a coach challenging a mouthy kid in a middle school gym class.
Obediently: "I said, do you have any meth."
"Did you hear that?" the ground guy asked me.
"Yes. I... don't have any meth," I said.
"I don't either!" he said, shaking his head. "Can't believe people around here."
When I left a while later, he was still sitting there with a few trash bags piled around him. I brought out a bottle of water on my way out. "I don't need that, I'm fine," he said. "Are you sure? It's hot out. Take it," I said.
"No, I'm completely fine," he said, like I was the weird one. It seemed like he saw himself as a broker in a suit on a park bench, wondering why people kept treating him like he was some kind of homeless guy.

No good tour goes unpunished

There was some kind of miscommunication. The more time that's gone by, the less I understand what actually happened, but on a Saturday, the matriarch of a group of eight called the shop from our launch point around the corner to ask where their tour guide was. The guy who answered the phone told her he didn't know anything about it, which was true and reasonable, and suggested she come to the shop to discuss. While she was marching over, I'd looked in the system and didn't see her booking. Curious. Maybe they'd booked with another tour company? But then why did they have our address and phone number? She'd worked up a good head of steam by the time she arrived at the desk, a moment before I was going to take off for lunch at noon. She said she'd been treated poorly on the phone, and I assured her that we'd figure out what was going on and see if we could sort them out. She brandished her phone with her TripAdvisor receipt, clearly showing that she had a reservation with us... for the next day. "That was a mistake," she said. "We meant to book for today." Without even glancing at the guy she'd insulted for not being able to find their non-existent reservation for that day: "Isn't there anyone who can take us out today, right now? There are eight of us, this is our only chance, and we really want to go!" Thinking about it now, that was a request that was clearly unnecessary to try to fulfill.  But not a completely impossible one, and I hated to see them miss out due to a simple typo. This was their only chance! They were booked solid the next day, and leaving the day after that.
I told her I had to be back for another tour at 1:30, so theirs would have to be abbreviated if we did it. "That's even better," she said. "We'd appreciate it so much! We'll ride fast."
I calculated. If we left immediately and skipped a few stops, and if everything went as smoothly as always, and if all eight people could keep up the pace on the final incline, we'd squeak in just in time for me to take off as the second guide for the birthday party.
Right.
At 1:30, with two miles left to go, the family was sitting on a patio sipping pints of beer, and the father was cursing and covered in grease. He had planted his bike seat-side down with the wheels spinning in the air for the second, but not final, time. After the mechanic rode out and fixed the jammed chain, and after the family waited for the unwieldy box of to-go french fries they ordered that took longer than the repair, and after the birthday party tour took off without me, and after I fixed another slipped chain a few blocks later, I was chatting to one of the sons at a stop light as we waited for the stragglers stretched out down the length of the block. "So, what have you guys got planned tomorrow?" I asked.
"Tomorrow? Nothing," he said. "I think we're just going to take it easy all day."

An offer I could refuse

"Hey! Hey! You want to have sex?" The man shouting at me as he staggered by had already been past the shop a few times by 7:45 am. He seemed probably homeless and definitely drunk. 

I said a very clear no. 

"Come on, yes you do! 

Nope. 

He kept walking, fortunately, as he shouted over his shoulder, "Me and you, on the ground!" He was almost gone by the time he added "Mano a manoooo!"

My coworkers looked horrified when they came in a few minutes later and I told them had happened.

"Sorry that happened, what did you say?" they asked.

"I... declined."

"Well yeah, of course," one replied. "You're married." 

I explained that there were a whole lot of reasons that made that an easy no, and that being married didn't really crack the top ten.