2nd: The First Ever Serialized Adventures of You! 1.3

As you walk away, you roll your tongue in your mouth. The musician left you with a sour taste, and your stomach is rumbling. Now that you know you can’t afford to eat, it’s decided to make an issue out of it. You enter the main concourse and look around for your cousin. You think you see him on the steps on the opposite side of the building and you try and make your way over to him. Unfortunately, there are several distinct groups of tourists in your way. There’s a pair of middle aged couples, and some punk looking foreign kids and so on. Most of them have large luggage, almost all of them are taking pictures of the ceiling, and all of them are wearing ugly clothes.
You try and slip through, but one of the middle aged men elbows you as he focuses his stupidly expensive camera at some particular aspect of the mural above you.
The man begins to apologize without understanding that what he should be apologizing for is not clocking you in the face, but his entire mentality.
“Christ, it’s just a ceiling.” You’re hoping that this revelation will show him the error of his ways, but you don’t have very high hopes. If you could afford a smart phone, you’d do an image search and show him how many hundreds of identical pictures already exist, but you can’t afford one, so you don’t show him any such search.
You find yourself thinking that under ordinary circumstances you might not be quite as much of an ass. However, you’re entirely too cognizant of how soon you will be leading your own blind, bumbling, backwards visitor about and you find yourself becoming increasingly bitter. Why do tourists feel the need to stand in the street and take pictures of buildings in the distance? Don’t they have buildings in Bumblefuck, Nowhere or wherever it is that they come from? They must, you think, be reasonable human beings on the whole, so what is it about tourism that makes them so goddamned retarded?
Of course, as you say this, you see your cousin, with his cell phone pointed at the ceiling. Excitedly, he drops his arm and begins hammering away on the keys. Oh god, you think. He’s sending it to his idiot friends. “Look, look. I discovered a ceiling!” Yes, you think. Whose a clever boy? That’s right. You are. A very clever boy. Very clever indeed.
Idiot.