A man and a woman who apparently know each other meet in the aisle on the way to their seats.

Woman: “Hey, stranger! You make it through OK?”
Man: “I just got back in town. I couldn’t take it.”
Woman: “Well, you better turn right back around. We’re about to get another d*mn storm. And I just got my lights back on!”

As they continue to talk windstorms and lost power, the man in front of me sits on a tube of toothpaste. He tries to clean it, then gives up and moves.

The seat, post toothpaste accident (note the tube in the crack between the seat and the wall)

Later, at Jefferson and 14th, a very drunk (the kind of drunk you can smell coming) man gets on, muttering to himself in a thick accent.

“I’m going to a celebration of my people, in Africa, where it doesn’t rain. Not like here. Here it rains every f-ing day.”

Through all of this, Smooth Jazz is at the wheel. Smooth Jazz makes everything aaalllll riiiight.