#52 A no swear zone?

I was getting my final refill of decaf at Panera’s before leaving for home. I had already finished the USAToday and the Wall Street Journal, and would have read the Columbus Dispatch, if nothing else were available. He was getting his first morning cup of coffee. So we were sort of jockeying for the right carafe and cream canister. [You receive your cup after paying, but pour your own]. He was wearing a stunning dark navy suit accessorized with a handsome expensive tie.

“Do you have a performance today?” I asked.

“Yes, a kiddie concert,” he sighed with a clear heave of disgust.

“Where is that?” I asked.

At the Palace. And it is a pain in the rear,” he grumbled.

“Why is that?”

“Parking. Just a hassle,” and he walked to his table to join the guys, a dentist, a handyman and a salesman.

Now where in this conversation, accurately recorded here, was the clue not to swear or cuss in my presence? Was it my elegant use of English with a slight Midwestern twang? My handsome $3.00 Wal-Mart slacks? My gray hair (roots)? Or maybe he recognized a fellow trombone player. Or was it just his own good manners and training?