How could I forget Bucket Man?

There's this guy who wanders around downtown, banging on a plastic bucket while singing Motown songs from the '60s and '70s. I used to feel bad for calling him Bucket Man until I learned, from a friend whose band the guy had opened for, that he calls himself "The Motown Bucket Man." Let nobody say you can't choose your own legacy.
Just a little note about the flight here. I know I am not a large person. I also know my carry-on bags are quite large. Yet somehow everyone--the flight attendants, fellow passengers, people at the airport newsstands--felt compelled to break this news to me. "Look at you! You're so small and your bags are so big!" It wasn't funny the first time someone said that, it's certainly not the fiftieth. Maybe next time I'll try another approach.

Flight attendant: Look at you! You're so small and your bags are so big!
Me: You know what happened to the last person who said that, right?
Flight attendant: No, what?
Me: (points menacingly at carry-on bag)

I also had quite the embarrassing carry-on bag experience when I went to stow one of them and my electric toothbrush, which was in the outer pocket, got switched on. Suddenly, I was in the uncomfortable position of having to explain a vibrating backpack to the swarm of passengers waiting to get to their seats behind me. As gracefully as I could, I unzipped the pocket, reached in, turned the toothbrush off, stowed the bag and turned to the crowd. "It's a toothbrush," I pleaded with them. In response, I got a few noncommittal shrugs.