Colin was finishing up; he looked exhausted.  On this hot day, while I wore shorts, a rayon shirt, sandals and a paper panama, Colin was in a leather vest, long pants, boots and a cowboy hat.  “I’ve had enough,” he said when he saw me. “It’s your turn.”

Across the plaza, the jazz violinist was amped up high. “I thought the cops cleared out the amplifiers,” I said.

Colin, who used an amp, smiled as he turned it off.  “They cleared us out yesterday.”  I made a gesture with open palms, as if to say, yet here you are today.  “Cat and mouse,” said Colin.  “Cat and mouse.”

After my first 30 minutes, there was nothing in my case.  I took a long drink of water and looked around.  Despite the heat, there were lots of people walking through.  Given that I’ve never yet gone without making, at the least, round-trip senior subway fare, I stood up for my second 30 minutes and confidently began to play.

Almost immediately, a passing 20-something Chinese man put a dollar in my case.  A short time later, a burly black man gave me $2, saying, “Good effort.”

A busload of Spanish teenagers in red tee shirts flooded the plaza.  They pretty much avoided me, until 3 young women came close enough for me to ask, “Have you got time for a hula today?”  As I passed out leis, 3 more young women joined in.  They did a wonderful synchronized hula to “The Hukilau Song.”  A small crowd formed to watch and take pictures.  Afterwards I collected the leis and draped them over the lid of my open case again, where I could see the same 3 singles lying there. All 6 dancers had walked away.

I started the third 30 minutes of my set, content that I’d broken even.  I earned 2 more dollars for singing a chorus of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” for a 30-something woman who video-ed the performance.  She seemed never to have heard the song before.  “Thank you,” she said.  “That’s a really pretty song.”