This mainly applies to those who roam the streets with camping backpacks literally the size of average kindergarten children and carry, in hand, titanic bottles that can hold enough water to bathe five fully-grown elephants.
Coming from a town like Berkeley has exposed me to all kinds of crazy. The drug addicts, the bookworms, the hippies, and the jocks; mutual exclusivity is common since nobody can fit all categories at once. (Or can they? Sketch.) Anyway, I digress. The point is that categorizing by these labels is widely acceptable, albeit clichéd. That’s okay; I can dig.