Crazy people exist in such abundance here that I usually forget about them moments after our encounter, but here are two from last week I happen to remember:
1) I was on the bus Friday morning, reading A Short History of Nearly Everything on my Kindle, when I realized someone was singing. It was soft enough that I thought it was coming from the back of the bus, and I figured maybe he was just so excited to be getting off and going to work that he felt like humming a little ditty.
But when most of the people left the bus at Wall Street, he moved to a seat quite near me and began singing loudly and reeeeeally awfully, all high-pitched but not on-pitch nor even close. He was a 50-something black guy, faceskin pock-marked to beat the band, navy blue suit, brown loafers, thick white gym socks pushed down, and one of the nicest Jheri curls I’ve seen since A.C. Slater. He was singing some song that went something like, “Girl, I’m going to get you,” which freaked me out a little at first, but then I realized it was actually much better than the time the guy behind me in the train sang into my ear, “L-l-l-l-lick me like a lollipop.”
2) On Thursday night, I went down to the lobby of Kamran’s building to pick up our dinner from the delivery guy, because for some reason, food delivery guys are allowed to come upstairs at lunchtime, and wine delivery guys are allowed to come up at all hours of the day, but at night, you have to go downstairs to meet the guy.
Like, the other day, I was in the lobby, and the doorman called up to someone’s apartment and asked her to come down to pick up her delivery, and she said all annoyingly, “It’s WINE!”, and he said all apologetically, “Oh, so sorry; I’ll send him right up.” Meanwhile, I’m there in my flannel pants and Christmas slippers with the fringe that Kamran says makes it look like my feet have mustaches picking up my food.
Anyway, on Thursday night, I was coming up the elevator after grabbing our dinner from the delivery guy, and this old lady was their with me, but neither of us even acknowledged the other, which is fine with me. But then, seriously out of nowhere, she looks at me and says, “I did my laundry earlier today and then went to D’Agostino, and when I came back, someone had stolen my jeans out of the dryer. They were nice jeans! At least five pairs of Ralph Laurens.” I’m too nice, and she had a pretty great Irish accent, so I pretended like I cared and said, “Oh, that’s terrible. Maybe someone just took them out of the dryer and put them somewhere else.” The door opened to her floor, and she stepped out. “Oh, no,” she said, “I looked everywhere down there.” I said, “Oh, I’m really sorry. It’s awful to think that could happen in this building.” The door began to close, and she said, “Goodnight, honey.”
And I thought, “Why did she just tell me that? Was there no one else she could tell?” And that is why everyone needs a blog.
11 Comments
How do you even begin to deal with people when they are stuck on a train with you in close proximity? Do you ignore them? Sing along? Yikes!
When I was on a train in Tokyo once, they guy kept running into people and then would kneel on the floor of the train and say “I’m sorry” in Japanese. Then he saddled up next to me and started chatting away. I had no idea what he was saying and just tried to ignore him like all the Japanese people were doing, but he just kept tapping me on the shoulder over and over again.
I usually just tell myself that I know where the emergency intercom button to the conductor is on the train and that I undoubtedly have innate kung fu skillz that will make themselves known if needed.
Ooooooh, being touched by crazy people is entirely different than just having to listen to them, though. I once had a dude tap me on the shoulder and make me take my headphones off so he could ask me for a dollar, and my blood pressure hit the top of my head.
At least your Tokyo friend sounds polite. Crazy-but-polite is less likely to stab you, I think. Unless he just apologizes for it afterward and thinks that makes it okay.
Awww! I actually feel sorry for the crazy Irish lady with the jeans. But you know how much clothes mean to me.
Oh, man, I would be ENRAGED if that happened to me, and all I own are teenager jeans from Delia’s. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for people who leave their clothes in public dryers long after they’ve dried, but if it makes you feel better, that building has about 800 security cameras, so I’m sure she got her jeans back.
I could imagine you telling all your blog stories to people on the train…
Wow, that’s really mean of you to say, because it’s totally true. If the Internet died tomorrow, I would probably buy a bullhorn and stand on the sidewalk in front of my apartment, just telling my stories to anyone unlucky enough to pass by.
I have a blog (gallimaufryandminutiae.blogspot.com), but it’s not really the sort of blog where I’d share about people talking to me randomly, so I’m just going to do so here.
I was getting gas yesterday, and I’m right next to the pump and totally behind my SUV, and the woman who was at the pump in front of me yells something as she’s standing by the driver’s side of her car. I poke my head around and ask what she said, and she repeats: “I say, we have great taste in cars, don’t we!”
I look at hers for a minute, and finally come up with, “Oh, because they’re both Toyotas?”
And then she proceeds to tell me about how much she loves Toyota for several more minutes. For no reason. I couldn’t even SEE her when she first started talking to me.
. . . I am sorry this is not very funny. You’re much better at the funny thing than I am. I’ve been subbed to your blog through google reader for several months now, and quite enjoy your stuff. =)
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, woman. I’ve only read through the very first page of your blog so far, and I’ve already gotten chills, accidentally nodded my head “out loud”, and fallen in love with you. Consider me subscribed and prepared to read all through 2010. Meaning back through 2010. Not all through the future of 2011. Just in case you were concerned I didn’t know what year it is.
What’s great/sad about your story is that everyone and their brother drives a Toyota. So either she was totally hitting on you, or she talks to total strangers 20 times a day. Or maybe she works for Toyota and was sent to “accidentally” run into you and plant this seed in your head so you’ll be compelled to buy another Toyota when new car time rolls around. IT’S A CONSPIRACY.
Loved your review of Black Swan. And, I’m totally a Princess Bride fan. :)
Thank you both–your comments made my day. <3
I should start blogging about my odd encounters with strangers here in Nowhere, WV. I have people that start talking to me for absolutely no reason on a regular basis. Maybe I look friendly? No idea. I’ll try to start keeping track. We’ll trade weirdo stories. :)