The Crazies really like me. Drawn to me like rednecks to a tractor pull.
I was on the bus the other day and this very well dressed lady started to ask me questions about which stop to get off because this was her first time on the bus. This is a free local shuttle we call ‘the trolley’. It does a little figure eight route around the downtown area and just loops around for 12 hours a day.
I told her which stop to get off. She then started asking a million questions - where I was from, where do I live, where do I work. And then the crazy statements. ‘I’m really a nice person’, ‘those people in the grocery store are dangerous’, ‘water isn’t really safe to drink’.
As we approached her stop, I reminded her that this was her stop coming up next. She kept making statements and the driver stopped at her stop. She didn’t stop with the statements. She stayed on the bus. I got off at the next stop (my destination) and hit the store.
Twenty minutes later, I got back on the trolley. She was still on it. She said, ‘oh, good, I missed you. You know, the driver keeps getting lost. I think he’s new.’
Keith (the driver) gave me one of those looks and closed the door. I rode to my next stop and started on my way home.
I wonder how long she drove poor Keith crazy. But at least it wasn’t me.
While visiting my parents in my home town, I met a nice man who lived up the street. He stopped by a couple of times while I was there, very friendly, just to talk. He had some carvings at his house that he wanted me to see (not etchings, these were carvings) and asked if I’d like to go for a ride up the River Road on his motorcycle the next day. I wasn’t getting crazy vibes from him, didn’t feel afraid to stop by his house or anything (and made sure my mom had his address just in case).
While driving to his house he pointed out an abandoned house a couple of doors down from his house. This little town was named for and owned by the current mayor. It was in the shadow of a huge chemical plant. Just when I was thinking he was a pretty nice guy and future visits to mom’s might include seeing him as well…he told me about the house.
He claimed it was full, I mean full, like halfway up the windows, with fleas. The fleas were being bred there, by the chemical plant, and the mayor knew about it. The fleas were going to be used to attack people.
Yep. Chemical Attack Fleas. Three feet deep! I declined his offer to go up on the porch and see for myself. Better safe than sorry.
I looked at the carvings, said they were very nice, said I needed to get back home, and never did take that motorcycle ride.