Yesterday, I boarded the now infamous M11 going south and walked to the back of the bus, sitting near to two persons having a conversation in Spanish. At the next stop, one of them disembarked and the left-behind-one, moved up the aisle and engaged another passenger in Spanish. As I watched, and the next stop approached, all six persons on the bus were conversing in Spanish as they all stood waiting to exit. At the designated stop, the driver opened the doors to let them off with a final sentence in Spanish. After everyone, but me had disembarked, I said, ‘ Well, was I the foreigner on the bus or what’?! He laughed. The traffic, he said, had been horrible for hours. I suggested that it might be because of voting day; both sides were fearful of losing and that made everyone tense, because everyone could count on either winning or losing. He bought that suggestion, he said. A few blocks later, at the end of the line, I thanked him, in Spanish of course, as I exited.