Characters of Firenze, Part 2

I wrote before about the bag sellers, and today's featured characters of the town are also not Italian.
Every day on the way to and from work we are plagued by the windscreen washers.
These guys and gals from Eastern Europe prowl the side roads, and the main intersections, between the city and Sesto, where the company is based. Some of them know us now - 3 blonde gals in the Panda are not hard to miss - but still try every day to scrub the screen clean.
Occasionally they are quite sweet, and we get hassled less now that the car is clean. But sometimes they are agressive and very intrusive - with their filthy squeedgies and their bottles of vile-looking green solution.
One guy did actually clean the window one day, and actually made a good job of it - although not as good as Janet at the petrol station with a clean squeedgie when we were filling up with gas. (We tried to give her 50 cents, but she laughed and turned us down!!)
The worst though are the 2 girls by the station - the sponge-bearing terrorists who turn positively nasty if you say no to their proffered services - and even nastier if you fail to stop them before they start wiping and then refuse to pay them afterwards on the grounds you said no to begin with.....
Whilst the bag sellers are an added interest somehow to the city, and garner my sympathy in some ways, the car cleaners are a nuisance that Florence would be well rid of. Especially when it is close to 40 degrees, and with no aircon in the car, I have to sit with the windows up at traffic lights to avoid the outstretched hands.
2 real characters in this squad deserve a special mention.
There is one guy by the station who wanted to reach in the window and help himself to the screwdriver on the dashboard (drunk, stoned and filthy, he moved alongside the car before I had chance to shut the window.) I have seen him since, darting in and out of car windows, leaving other alarmed-looking drivers in his wake.
And the other is the old guy in the trenchcoat and hat who has to be frying in the heat, but nonetheless stalks the intersection, paper cup in hand, but seeming to do nothing to try to get cash - its just a stroll amongst the cars in his winter jacket.
Added to the mix tonight was an ambulance. Sirens blaring, I dodged out of his way as he roared through, followed by a number of ambulance chasers. These were not, however, unscrupulous lawyers chasing a buck as in the US movies, but simply aggressive drivers following in the path that the vehicle had cleared in the traffic.
The quiet of the residence was a welcome experience when I parked in the forecourt!