Music filled the air at 7th and Montana this morning as Rigolatte -- the local Opera Loon -- treated the crowd to one of his more eclectic performances. I knew we were in for a treat when I saw him rush to the rest room and start pounding on the door. "Come out, come out, whoever you are!," he cried. He stood there giggling loudly until the woman who was inside beat a hasty retreat. Then he swooped-in, slammed the door behind him and started warming-up his vocal chords: "Mi ... Mi ... Mi ... Mi ... Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do ...!" His deep, booming voice carried all the way to the Espresso Bar. "He's just getting started," I said to the man standing next to me, an employee from the dry cleansers across the street. "You don't have to tell me," he replied, "We've banished him from the cleansers because he's just so weird." As if on cue, Rigolatte -- still locked in the rest room -- started quacking like a duck. "Ooh," I said, "He's in a fowl mood now ... there's no telling what's coming next." Several minutes later, we found out. He started quacking out the lyrics to "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" in what I must say was one of the best impressions I've ever heard of Donald Duck. Mark my words, one of these days a vehicle will be coming for him, alright, but I don't think it will be a Sweet Chariot ...!