Have you seen the new Harry Enfield/Paul Whitehouse show where an old American couple go around London being friendly to people to the degree that you'd feel like a proper shit for punching one or both of them in the face whilst commanding them to "fuck off back to Happy Land where folks like you belong!"
I met them. They were in the sammich shop, deferring my order for 4 minutes while they effusively thanked the owner and staff for the greatest service one man has ever rendered unto another. Then they asked where the nearest ice-cream parlour was. I told them. They thanked me most effusively. Then I got to order my sammich.
I came away with a floaty, carefree feeling, of the sort I imagine you get after listening to some twee indie, or living your whole life in Boindibong, Idaho. And also, my sammich.