Our Non-Melting Pot

The only reason I notice this next guy who gets on the bus is because he greets the bus driver in an unusually enthusiastic manner, "Good day, sir. And how are you? Looks like I owe you 75 cents more. Might I have a transfer please?" Obviously not a regular on the 22 with that kind of attitude. So I'm already scribing about my love for texting after getting my own bench on the bus, and I'm not paying too much attention to the conversation this guy has started with a lady across from him (he's sitting in priority seating, which faces the other priority bench). And then I hear this: "America is a melting pot that is NOT melting! We all speak our own language and we can't understand each other." Then he says something about how his parents grew up, one in Germany, another in England, then something about Hitler...I know I should be paying better attention at this point. But at this point, I am wishing I can't understand him. All I get after that is a bit of his opinion on how Norwegians are an extremely stubborn bunch, as he leans in and whispers it to this poor lady who is obviously annoyed by now...and needing my counsel on when to pull out the cell phone.