Just A Minute, Men

It's been a while since I've been able to indulge my little hobby of having my picture taken with interesting people. Not that I haven't seen any interesting people but I also have a rule that they must not be scary. For example, almost every day I see a guy who is very fit, wears head-to-toe spandex and a hat last seen on The Love Boat's Captain Steubing, and carries a baton (the kind a majorette twirls). Rumor has it that he also asks women he meets around town if they like to jello wrestle with other women. I avoid him.

The gentlemen pictured above were standing outside the vistor's center at the Boston Common. The Army Dude (who took the picture) was surprisingly reluctant to approach them. It seems odd to me that someone like the Army Dude, who is trained to shoot people, makes sure the troops have enough bullets to shoot people, and studies people-shooting tactics would be so afraid to TALK to people, but there you are. I guess in combat nobody says, "Excuse me, would you mind if my buddies and I shoot you and your buddies?" Or at least, not if they want to live to tell that particular story.

It's my experience, however, that people wearing 18th century garb and using the word "huzzah" in a sentence generally enjoy attention and are pleased to have their picture taken. These gentlemen were no exception.

After we all said "REVOLUTION!" instead of "cheese," I thanked the guy on my left for not putting his hand on my butt as one of the bikers on Route 66 had done. The guy to my right - who was carrying a flask on a strap - said I should have expected that from a biker so the blame was on me. He may be right. But somehow, the colonial garb and the flask ruined his credibility for me.