“Great day,” I said to Randy as I walked through Strawberry Fields.

“You should have been here yesterday.”

The combo played “Blue Moon” near Daniel Webster.  “Not to be confused with Noah Webster of dictionary fame,” I overheard a buggy driver say with an Irish lilt.

Colin said he’d play for another 15 minutes, so I decided to sit down and wait for him.  The temperature was in the mid-70s, with a cool breeze blowing off the water  “No,” Colin corrected himself, “make that another 45 minutes.”

So I set up under the maple.  Pushing his double bass ahead of him, Vasili, formerly of the Ukrainian Symphony Orchestra, now with the John Boyd players in the arcade, threw his hands up in delight to see me.  He danced a hula-like jig and said, “You are always so happy, how are you, my friend?”  It had been more than a year since I’d seen him.

“Beautiful day,” I said.

“You should have been here yesterday.”

A preteen girl from the UK was keen to hula.  Her parents tried to whisk her away, but she prevailed and did a credible hula to the “Hukilau Song.”  Her name was Olivia.  Her dad gave her a dollar for me.  As she walked away, she waved “Aloha.”

A man peeled off from his guided tour and sprinkled 77 cents into my case.  Two local girls hula-ed amid shouts (“hukilau!”) and giggles.  Pushing his instrument back down the path, Vasili returned from the fountain, where there was no work for him, and joined the girls in the hula, then both Vasili and the girls walked away.

Two 20-something women walked by; one of them gave me a dollar, but would not dance.

At the end of my set, with $3.77 in my pocket, the big bubble man came by with his bucket and netting.  “It’s beautiful in the fountain, you could go there now,” he said.  “The guitar guy is packing up.”

“He said he’d be done at 1, it’s almost 2.  He must have had a good day.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the big bubble man.  “Tuesdays aren’t so great.  You should have been here yesterday.”