So I started riding the bike and pulling the bike trailer on tuesdays and thursdays to get Holly to and from preschool.  It's one of my personal battles against buying gas.  (Don't worry, Obama, I inflated my bike tires to proper levels for maximum fuel efficiency).  It's a five mile one-way ride, and as much as I want to get in shape, I'd rather do ten miles a day then twenty.  So I pack my laptop bag and camp out at a nearby park to do some work while Holly is in school.

So today, I am sitting at a park table, when six Indian American grandpas (they may or may not be grandpas, but they were that age) came and sat at my table around me.  Umm, awkward.  I'm thinking to myself, as I am picturing in my head the 20+ other empty tables in the park, "don't these guys know that in America, we like some elbow room and to be left alone when we are minding our own business?"

Hold the racism speech, I'm redirecting.

So then one of the other voices in my head (don't ask, it's too hard to get an exact count) says, "Maybe that's America's problem.  Hmmm?"

These Indian American Grandpas started talking to me....  nothing unusual, just friendly conversation.  It occured to me that this is, either formally or informally, a talking bunch that meets here regularly, if not daily or more.  And, in very unAmerican fashion, they were being nice and including the strange bald guy in bike shorts who found himself in their neck of the woods.  I relaxed and laughed and nodded at what I thought were appropriate places...  half the conversation was in Indian.  It was a refreshing experience to see people so eager to be kind and inclusive.

So to my Indian American Grandpa buddies, thanks for the culture shock.

And while we're being politically correct, I would like to now be referred to as a Scottish-Irish-English-German-American-by-way-of Canada.

Ehh, I'll just stick with "American."  But maybe "Americans" should take notes from everyone else.