Yes, that title is very similar to "Men, Keep Your Knees Together on the Bus." And yes, this post is going to be me complaining while making fun of my ride to downtown on the numero Cinco bus.
Enter DD mustachioed guy with a lanyard in the seat across from me, entertaining himself and everyone else with non-sensical sing-song sounds as he gently slides off his seat at every stop. At least he was smiling! (Unlike some Capitol Hill baristas I could mention...)
Enter fancy-pants wooden flute playing guy, who starts playing "soothing" tones, I'm assuming to lull DD guy into silence, which didn't work AT ALL. Whatever, because even DD guys with mustaches and lanyards have the right to express their frustration at sliding out of their seats at every stop.
Enter neighbor who says to flute-player, "Are you Navajo?" Here are the potential reasons why he would ask this:
1) He thinks only Native American people can play fancy pants wooden flutes.
2) He thinks that Navajo is the only tribe of Native Americans.
3) He looks at the flautist's Pendleton wool coat and assumes that everyone who wears a vaguely "indigenous" print must be Native American/Navajo.
Now, this is where we all started to slide out of our metaphorical seats, because instead of schooling his neighbor in ignorance, the flautist just says, "I don't know who my real father is." Wow. Now he even has DD guy's attention.
Again, not a bad ride, because there were no bodily fluids spilled, which is really the only criteria for a not-terrible bus ride.
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