Things that would never happen to me in Sweden

The other day I was walking toward the big crossing by the Denver Capital building and the Centennial building - a really busy street corner, and this skater, a white kid, high school aged, with a backward cap, baggy pants and over-sized shirt came rolling. He wasn't a good skater, at least not that day, he fumbled with his board when he stopped slightly in front of me by the street (there was a red light) and almost lost his board to the busy traffic, before he caught it desperately with his foot at the last second.
All this time he was smoking, and I, being distracted by other thoughts didn't register the smell until after a few seconds...these particular whiffs that I hadn't had in my nose for a long time, from a forgotten era almost.
Then he made an almost natural movement toward me, handing me the joint, like I was his special basement-mate in his cozy suburban home south of Denver or something, and I saw in his eyes that he was high as a kite.

Several thoughts crossed my mind simultaneously while I made a declining hand motion and said "no thanks, I'm good".

Kid, you're gonna kill yourself if you start skating right now, someone ought to confiscate your board!, and Kid, I could be your momma, if I lived in Appalachia with the right hormones. When the lights turned green he started to skate away in a dull way, in the midst of rush hour.

At the archives, when I told this story, people's most common comment was "shit, why isn't anyone offering me some light recreational drugs? ...but I always opposed such words with: Dudes, he wasn't offering me drugs, he was offering me to share his drugs, in a fucking street corner, in RUSH HOUR.

I really still don't know how to interpret that.

So, yesterday then, I got off the bus in Boulder and started walking home down Table Mesa Road, and this man on a bike stopped his bike and shouted something to me when I crossed the street. When I came closer he said in an outdoor voice "WOW what red hair, I've never seen such hair, can I TOUCH it??
I didn't mind just then, and thought he was a little hyper but that was ok. So he continued to walk beside me, talking about his two daughters and how awesome they were, and how troubled his marriage was (and I commented that I was married and also would want a kid at some point)..and blah bladi-blah, and just when I was gonna turn aside into our street he suddenly burst out: "So...I don't want to be vulgar...but ehrm...are you red-haired DOWN THERE too?"
Surprised as I was the first few seconds, I just said "well...that is kinda vulgar. But then my Swedish analytical scientific part of my brain blinked on and I said: "But quite frankly it's very rare that people are anything else than different shades of brown on their pubic hair, it's a pigmentation thing, and even most blondes, with a few exceptions are light brown down there, unless they are bleached".

Very much too late it downed on me that he was probably hitting on me, and that he was most probably on something too, if only booze. (but he had been stable and with good motor skills while biking)

So I did the look at my watch and "omigosh, is that the TIME" - maneuver, and turned the corner.

These two incidents might happen to someone in Sweden...but probably not, but then of course no one was ever hitting on me in Sweden either.