You exit a downtown saloon late at night and almost immediately spot a man across the street lighting what appears to be a tobacco pipe. Your first thought is to:
A. Call the police. It's probably some depraved specimen of humanity loitering and smoking crack.
B. Catch the scent and verify that it's a fellow connoisseur of fine tobacco. So, at the risk of being thought a little too friendly for that part of town, you cross the street and try to establish some sort of rapport by uttering common pipe smoking banalities.
C. Try to get sober. A flickering remnant of clarity reveals that the pipe smoker is none other than your own reflection in a shop window, a mistake anyone could make.
D. Ignore the bastard. There hasn't been another pipe smoker in the area for 17 years, and there's no reason to think there's another one now.