As we drove to brunch, teenagers slouched along the dirt sidewalk and glared at our approach. Sullen, defensive, glancing from side to side in defiance of everything and nothing, they cruised through the haze kicked up by passing cars.

I tried to determine what was so different about the group, why they stood out. I said something to Marie who glanced over and proclaimed, "Tourists." 

"How can you tell?"

"They aren't dusty." 

Of course.