I saw this sign in Alaska. I think it means that people wearing Abercrombie & Fitch clothing will be crossing here. They will no doubt also have razor-sharp cheekbones and perfect hair and will silently guide you and your gigantic pores to the nearest Old Navy.
I hate Abercrombie. I wear an XL at Abercrombie and I'm not willing to remove my ribcage in order to fit into more attractive sizes. I mean, sure, I like some of their sweaters but exposing my internal organs to the elements in exchange for a V-neck seems ridiculous. Well, unless it's teal. Because teal makes me feel pretty.
As both of my readers know, my sister Runtie is the cute one in the family. Our parents were planning on having six children and I think they planned on an equal distribution of aesthetically pleasing features. I came out with all of my limbs and fontanelles that eventually closed so they were happy. Five years later when I still couldn't tie my shoes but also couldn't use Velcro without bleeding, they'd resigned themselves to stopping at two. They had several helixes worth of good-lookingness left and they gave it all to her. Sooooo, when she goes into Abercrombie, they always offer her a job or offer to put her face on a shopping bag. When I go into Abercrombie, they point me in the direction of the dead rat clogging the employee urinal.
It's cool. I'm over it. I'm better than Abercrombie and their stupid Moose logo and their cologne that smells like every Sigma Chi's laundry hamper and their thin cashmere sweaters and their sticky urinal cakes that always cling to the rat when I'm removing it and their $30 flip flops and their overpriced Ezra Fitch line. Yeah, I'm better than Ezra. So there.
Um. Excuse me. Back to the street sign. Drivers are encouraged to speed up.