At the recent Bob Schneider concert (amazing, please go sometime), his first interaction with the crowd, after a few songs sung with downcast eyes, was to raise his head and tap his forehead then gesture grandly towards the audience, using his whole arm. He did this a few times. "My chapeau," he said, "I tip my chapeau to you all." Then, "I hung out in Paris recently and picked up some of the nomenclature."
(Of many, a few of my thoughts at that moment: I love the word nomenclature. Love it! Also I love that he tipped an imaginary hat. Why don't more people tip hats, imaginary or otherwise? I cannot remember the last tipped hat.)
Driving home during rush hour a few days later, thinking I could beat the freeway traffic by taking unknown sidestreets, I spent quite a while on a long road lined with liquor stores, pawn shops, and strip clubs. Although there were indeed fewer cars, the pedestrian traffic was aplenty. At one point, a gentleman began to cross the street directly in front of me. He wore a bushy beard and dirty khakis. They were complemented by grey (once white) shower sandals, and a tattered baseball cap with indecipherable writing across the bill. I stopped to allow him to cross. He ambled. I waited. Just as he passed directly in front of my car, he looked through my windshield (we made eye contact), lifted his hand, and tipped his hat.