It was another hot one; I set up in the cool breeze on the path. After a while, a young Indian couple stopped near me. “Have you got time for a hula today?”

“I danced yesterday,” the woman said. “Don’t you remember me?”

“Mumbai,” I greeted her. “That was yesterday. What about today? Did you already hula in your hotel room this morning? Besides,” I went on, “he didn’t see you.”

They turned their backs and conducted a private discussion; I turned my attention to the people walking by. I started singing “Ukulele Lady” for my next number. Somewhere about the time the wiki-wakis wooed, Mumbai girl walked forward and grabbed a lei. I transitioned into “The Hukilau Song.” As she danced, she sang the words, “huki, huki, huki, huki, hukilau.” Her hula was much improved; maybe she had practiced in her hotel room.

A photographer spent some time setting up his shot. Unlike most folks who find me photogenic, he gave me a dollar. There was an egregious hula walkaway, and almost immediately afterward a videographer walkaway. Fact was, no one was paying any attention to me. Then Maggie the dog came by with her owner. Humans exchanged pleasantries. He told me how much he liked the accordionist, whom I could just hear over the hill near the fountain. Maggie took a seat.

“Sorry, Maggie,” I said, starting to pack up. I wasn’t going to spend my last 10 minutes in the park serenading a dog. I had better things to do.

Having done them, I boarded an M104 bus. I had to take my uke case off my back to sit down. “What is that, a violin?” the woman next to me asked. She was older than me, with a European accent.

I told her it was a ukulele. She asked me what kind of music I played, classical? In fact, what I play is classical uke music, but I didn’t want to get into those kind of distinctions, so I described my act with a few titles.

“I have a television show on cable,” she said. “And I’d love to have a guest who was over 20. My name is Martine.”

I gave her my card. You never know.