Today I improvised a scene at Starbucks. I played a "Rainman"-esque character who questioned another man about his "service dog." I started out by complimenting him about what a beautiful service dog he has. Then I asked him if the dog was helping him read the newspaper (obviously the dog wasn't because the newspaper was on the counter in front of the man, out of eye-level of the dog).
The man asked me if I was with the "Service Dog Police." I assured him that I was not. He then asked me "What does that sign say?" I read it aloud so everyone in the store could hear. "We welcome service dogs."
"What else does it say?" he asked me.
I looked at the small print. "No pets, please!" I cried, placing extra emphasis on the word "pets."
A little boy, oblivious to this inane altercation, came over to ask the man if he could pet the dog. Of course, the man obliged.
That's when I turned to the little boy. "One day when you grow up you can have a service dog and bring him to Starbucks."
The boy said, "Oh, I don't live around here."
"That's OK," I told him. "It's a California law anyway and you don't have to pay attention to it even if you are from here."