Native American in Washington Heights

Today, as I waited at the Starbucks outside NY Presbyterian's ER, the man ordering in front of me looked Native American. He had a great mass of straight black hair that stretched in an uninterrupted cascade to his mid-back. He wore a beige leather jacket and leather pants with fringes. Around his neck hung a broad necklace made of white stones (bone?), and his profile resembled Geronimo. He reached into a leather paunch slung around his waist, pulled out a five, and paid for his double latte with soy. Was he the real thing? I once worked on a Navajo reservation, where I would not have doubted (oh the turquoise boulders that the old people wore!). But here in Manhattan, you have to wonder.