I’m at the park, sketching passersby and scenes. Two kids wander out of the rear exit of the carousel area near where I am sitting. Their dad finds them and says, “You better come back. You’ll get kidnapped. There are weird people out here.”
I think maybe this is a generic statement, but then I realize that I’m the only one in the vicinity at the moment, and it must look like I am drawing his children.
This identifies me as the weird people.