A few nights ago, I met the downtown busker on public square while waiting for the bus.  He was easy to recognize, wearing his guitar and the same sweatshirt he’d been out in all night.  He played guitar throughout our conversation, strumming away like a compulsive nail-biter or hair-twirler.

I said, “Are you the guy who was playing over on East 4th Street?”

He smiled, “Yeah.”

“I see you all the time, I work in one of those restaurants.  We were wondering, how do you stay warm while you’re playing out there?”

He laughed.  Apparently he layers enough sweatshirts to ignore the cold and rarely wears his fingerless gloves.

“Except when the wind blows,” he said.  ”then I go home.  Nothing can protect you from a wind like that.”

photo via http://realneo.us/content/busking-cleveland

He is from Dallas, Texas, and doesn’t mind our cold compared to their heat.

“At least you can always put on another layer,” he said.  ”In Texas you could literally, literally fry an egg on the sidewalk.  We did it once.”

We talked about money, and it sounds like he makes as much in tips as a waitress in a mediocre restaurant.

“Once,” he said, “a guy gave me a $100 bill.  Right now though, it’s not really enough money.”

I nodded.  East 4th hasn’t been as hopping lately.  It seems no one has any money to spare right now, or they’d rather not go out in the cold.  He said he might be looking for a second job soon, just to get through the winter.

I told him to go down to West 58th and talk to the guys at The Happy Dog about setting up a gig.  He said he’d heard of the place before, so I hope he goes.  I think they’d like him there, and it’s warmer than the streets downtown.

The bus finally arrived after we’d been waiting in the cold about half an hour, and we boarded the westbound for home.  He played his guitar the whole way, laughing and trying to humor a crazy man who requested Michael Jackson.

I respected him very much.