Are we doing this now?

            Strolling up the street, iPodless, three men are walking toward me.  They leap up in formation like a comic book still, arms out in triumph, legs kicking karate.  Their feet hit the street, and they are normal again.

            It’s time to pass each other.  I attempt eye contact as if that’s the way to explanation, coughing back my laughter.  As they file past, the middle one starts bobbing his head like a pigeon, and squeaks out a beat.  “Megaman!” he punctuates his song.  I’m a spigot of giggles, but nobody talks to me.

            Did I just get dance-stepped to?  Because if so, I would have given each one the chance on principle alone.