I stepped through the front door this evening and knew, instantly, that he was back. The window was open merely a crack, the fans of at least three restaurants were whirring in the alley below, and an ambulance siren was screaming. And I could still hear him.
The Whistler.
He's an impeccably groomed man of about 75, strongly resembling Chad Everett. He wears pressed khakis and a navy jacket, on sunny days a matching ballcap. Every so often - certainly not every day, nor even every week - he stands near the restaurants and whistles everything from "Shenendoah" to "Don't Cry for Me Argentina". And man, this dude can whistle.
I located him through binoculars. He was standing in front of the pub patio, doing his thing while three frat-boy types stared at him with that familiar look of amazement and irritation. Like, "How can be so so good and so annoying at the same time?!"
I know how they feel. I usually cross the street to avoid the Whistler. Talented as the Whistler is, there's something about other people's whistling that just annoys the hell out of me. But with his neat white hair and his confident smile (he can smile and whistle at the same time, it's incredible), he's a hell of a lot more interesting than the other buskers out there. Like the grossly obese hippie who plays the recorder through his nose in front of Chapters on Friday nights, or the street kids who figure that rapping some overturned buckets with chopsticks is worth a loonie or two, or Perverto the Clown who makes vaguely obscene balloon creations for all the hot young blondes who cross his path (usually with their boyfriends; I'm guessing he gets beat up a lot). I wish him luck.
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7 comments:
Boy do you have some loonies living near by. Or at least from what I am reading. Hope it gets better. My girls just love watching Sophie by the way. I showed them the Youtube of Sophie and Bri went nuts over her. That is my girl. She loves animals. Not into dogs right now but give her time. Our last landlords dog scared her pretty good. He kept knocking her down everytime he was outside and we were too. Finally I quit taking them outside. So they are enjoying the freedom of the back yard today.
I hope Bri comes to like dogs, they're so awesome. Do you plan on getting one someday? Mom mentioned J isn't crazy about them, so maybe not. I'd recommend a rabbit, but they really are furry little demons. ;D
We really do have some oddballs around here. I didn't even mention "Bob the Street Poet from Hell" or the kid who used to ask for money for his campaign to kill the Spice Girls and/or the Backstreet Boys. (He was kidding. I think.)
NO dogs here for sometime. J wants to see if we can get another place out in the country in about five years. He still wants a new house. I dont blame him so do I but I guess its just one of those things to wait and see what happens. I have to go fill the pool for the kids though. Catch you later. N.
Alrighty then! You've got drug-dealing gangbangers in the lobby, and the Whistler outside. You open your windows to the sounds of traffic and restaurant fans. I think I prefer our skunks and bears! :(
I don't know about drug dealers in the lobby; we can only assume. But I'm totally serious about the nose-flute guy.
The funny thing about this is, we ran into the Whistler on the way home from the store, whistling just to himself. I smiled at him and he smiled back.
Come to San Francisco. You can meet the Bushman. He's famous for scaring tourists and gets tons of laughs from locals (or people who know his trick - he's a one trick pony).
I googled S.F. Bushman, & I'm still laughing. Why didn't I think of that, living in MN?! Sounds like good, cheap fun (aside from the tickets...).
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