I stand backed up against the wall underground waiting for the Piccadilly Line enroute to Paddington Station. An older guy in a janitorial uniform walks towards me, spearing trash and tossing it into his bag as he approaches me. We make eye contact and I acknowledge him with a smile and nod. "Where are you from?" he asks me. I tell him. He's my countryman. "Where do you live?". I tell him. "Ha! The dollar is just paper now with no power!". With a smile and a nod, I'd inadvertently invited a discussion on politics, capitalism, and the economy of the US. We spend the next 5 minutes chatting in Yoruba, rather, I was just nodding, trying to get a word in. I allowed him to solve the problems of the USA in our five minutes. The refreshing part was being able to chat with someone in my native language. I'd rather we talked about our own country, something we both shared in common. My train finally arrives. "God bless you!" he says, and he continues walking down the line, spearing trash and going about his daily routine, like our conversation never happened.