Who are your local crazies?

In My Humble Opinion
1

A long time ago, I used to work as a busboy/waiter/general busybody at a cafe during the long, hot summer months for what was basically chump change. Once in a while, it would be my job to man the ice-cream stand on the sidewalk at the front of the cafe, and this gave me a great opportunity to stand and observe the never-ending river of humanity that flowed before me.

After awhile, I could pick out regular faces in the crowd and go so I could recognise “the locals”. One such guy wasn’t particularly hard to spot, as he would plod down the street in a dirty old raincoat with a MASSIVE white cross slung over one shoulder. He was almost doubled-over under the weight of this thing, and as well as the raincoat, he would always be wearing really thick, padded gloves, no matter what the weather.

By the standards of our neighborhood, this guy was only mildly quirky, and seemed relatively harmless. However, there was one crazy old lady who gave me the creeps and who I also saw regularly from my perch at the ice-cream stand.

No matter how hot the weather, this woman would always be wearing a full-length blue-grey fur coat. She was fat, pale, pasty and jowly, and as she waddled past me, I could see that her hair war plastered down with sweat, and I could smell a high, sour stench wafting off her in waves. Her jowls wobbled with every step, and her neck and cheeks were stained blue from the fur-coat.

She’d always wear dark glasses, and jut her chin out at the worls as if challenging it to a fight. Shw was truly a horrible, creepy, flabby nightmare of a woman.

In my current job, I frequently drive past another local crazy on my way back and forth from work. This guy sems obliviious to the world as he shuffles down the road in a filthy sweatsuit and a luminous yellow safety vest similar to the one road crews wear for visibility.

I once saw this guy slouching down the street with his pants around his ankles, and another time he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk and pissing on the ground, ignoring the bumper-to-bumper traffic around him.

So who are your local neighborhood crazies?

2

Two words: Phred Phelps.

3

Ummm, that would be me, I’m afraid . . .

4

We live in an unincorporated area, so not too many neighbors. But I think my husband would have the title of neighborhood nutcase. He wears a military cammo shirt EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY. I don’t know how he can stand it, but he identifies with it and it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, so I have to just shake my head and go along with it.

5

So who’s Phred Phelps?

6

Ah, Bibliovore, consider yourself very blessed that the knowledge of Phred Phelps has not entered your consciouness . . .

7

No shit. If you google him, you’ll get way more Phelps than anyone in their right mind can handle. He’s a bad man. A very bad man.

8

Hmm let’s see. Some of the local crazies…

One lady I remember always wanders down Jasper Ave. She’s semi-clean and usually wears something different every day. And she babbles… not even anything you can understand, it’s complete gibberish. When you get close to you she asks for quarters… only quarters. If you give her anything but quarters she’ll throw it on the ground when you walk away. Sometimes she’ll even do that with the quarters. I know people who have seen her drop 5 dollar bills that someone has pressed into her hands.

Another guy that wanders downtown dresses in neon colours. Not only that it’s a form fitting type of suit. Looks kind of like those things bike couriers wear sometimes, or bike racers. Overtop this he wears a … get this… black polkadotted with neon pink dots g-string. He also carries a shopping bag thrown over his shoulder. I once saw him trying on a little girls jump suit in the store I worked at (one of those discount stores which sells really really cheap clothing) and he was trying it on in the middle of the store :eek: Thank goodness he stayed fully clothed while doing so!

9

Well, this guy doesn’t actually count as “crazy” but is somewhat of a local hero. He is a dude who has MS and probably should have been dead 20 years ago. Since I was a kid, I would see him riding his 3 wheel bike around the town I grew up in. The guy is pretty severly twisted up and as he rides he looks like he is in absolute agony. He can barely move at a slow walking speed.

Well, now, nearly 30 years later, he is still around. Still riding that bike. But now, he has sponsers! He pulls a little trailer with advertisments for local businesses. Still moves at less than walking speed, still looks like he is in agony. Still going strong.

The dude is an absolute inspiration.

Fagjunk theology: Not just for sodomite propagandists anymore.

10

There is this guy in Providence, Walter Miller, who is charmingly crazy. Although he doesn’t make his home in Providence, he is quite obsessed with former mayor/current felon Vincent A. “Buddy” Cianci. He carries a boom box on which he plays tapes of Cianci speechs. I’ve heard him mumble “Buddy C, Buddy C, Buddy C” over and over again. He does card tricks, instructing passersby to pick one for the mayor. Buddy used to throw him a birthday party in the street downtown every year, and when it started to look bad in court, I heard Walter speculate as to whether the new mayor would do the same. I’m thinking no.

11

Our most recent public eccentric is just a little old man who spends his afternoons staring at the sun. The local Pep Boys has a big flag outside and the man stands in line with the flag and the sun, by the side of a heavily traveled road. He’s neatly dressed, wears a cap and dark sunglasses, and you wouldn’t particularily notice him except he’s there every single day. I worry about him and hope whomever is caring for him can convince him to find a more safe place to stand.

12

You sure he wasn’t paying homage to Buddy Christ? :smiley:

13

When I was living in the student ghetto area of Albuquerque there was a homeless guy known as “The Ragman” because he wore beat up clothes and occaisionally actually attached rags to his clothing. He wandered the streets, sometimes ranting and raving. He drank Mad Dog and his friends gave him food; he looked terrifying but as far as I know never harmed anyone.

He was quite well known in town and also in some of the surrounding towns. A girl I knew said one day when she had trouble getting across the street he’d stopped traffic by going out into the middle of it and waving his arms so she could cross. He slept in alleyways and one night about 15 years ago someone killed him by setting him on fire.

14

The Breather

He hangs out at this bar we go to. He’s a big guy, he wears sweatpants all the time and they sag way down so his butt crack hangs out. You can also see his tidy whiteys. He will go out and change his shirt 4-5 times a night. Also, he pulls hairs out of his arms and picks at scabs on his head. He will often stand outside and do tai chi type moves. He’s bizarre. Quirky thing is he’s rumored to be a really good guitar player.

15

I’ve never figured out if this guys is really crazy or just extremely comfortable with himself…

There’s man who frequently dresses up in a see-through wedding skirt with the front hiked up to just above his crotch, which is covered by a white thong. In the summer, he goes bare-chested, except for the white bra he wears. In the winter, he normally wears a short red skirt or short black dress and a turban. He always wears furry black boots and is always twirling a baton. He’ll stand on a corner and twirl his baton, then pause like he’s vogue-ing. He’s usually near my neighborhood or downtown. He’s become sort of a fixture. I’ve never heard him speak, but he seems happy enough.

16

Two words - East Village.

17

Around here, wearing rags pinned to yourself, or pissing on the street is ho-hum. Some people around here jab stainless steel wires through their skin and tie on bells and go dancing in the streets - mumbling “Buddy C” over and over just doesn’t compare.

But, we do have one distinct local character - Frank Chu. His gig is walking all around downtown SF with an ever changing sign, usually calling for the impeachment of Clinton and the 12 galaxies guiltied to a zegnatronic society.

18

Wow! Wedding skirts, neon G-strings, mumblers. Makes our local eccentrics seem downright normal.

One of them is (how do I put this nicely?) mentally challenged. He’s harmless enough, and a nice enough guy who holds down a job somewhere. He seems to enjoy going to the pub and hanging out with the crowd–watching sports on the TV, listening to the music and so on. He doesn’t drink alcohol; I’ve never seen him have anything stronger than a Coke.

But he never has any cigarettes, which he seems to love, so he will ask everybody in the place, smoker or not, if they could give him a cigarette. And there’s nothing like watching the final minute of the game, with your team so close to victory you can taste it, only to be interrupted by a persistent poking on the shoulder and a voice saying, “Hey, buddy, got a smoke? I need a smoke. Got a smoke?”

The other is called, somewhat meanly, the “local hooker.” She’s a woman in her 40s who does her makeup like Tammy Faye and dresses like Britney Spears. She’s a familiar sight, walking through the neighbourhood as she does her errands, takes her kids to school, and whatnot. She’s a nice enough person really, but those who have never spoken with her and only base their impressions on how she looks would never find out.

19

There’s an African-American lady who will walk into a local business, ask where the restroom is, and then proceed to clean it…

20

We’ve got a guy here in downtown Manhattan who walks around all days CAWing out loud like a crow. You can hear him blocks away.

Zev Steinhardt