The amazing thing about New York City is that there is no shortage of crazy or odd sightings. This rule was especially true when taking the subway after hours. Nothing good ever happens when taking the subway after midnight, at least to me. It reminds me of that scene from Home Alone 2 when Kevin hops in a cab in an attempt to get away from the horrors of the nighttime weirdos in Central Park. Of course, upon jumping in the cab, the cabbie turns to him and informs him, "ain't much better in here kid." The same held true for The Boy and I this evening, it wasn't getting any better once we stepped onto that train.
There were four crazies on my subway journey this evening and we will tell each of their stories in order of their appearance...
Mr. Karate Crazy - A Stevie Wonder lookalike, so that includes the dreads and the extremely receding hairline. Seriously, I love you Stevie, but when are we going to do something about that? Karate Crazy talked to himself, paced back in forth, smiled at the subway map like he saw a naked tit, talked AT others and asked questions, and received no responses. Randomly he would do karate kicks around people's faces, causing people to flee to other areas of the train. Again, he was big on the smiling, which was nice - if not a little disconcerting. He also played a game I like to call, will the subway doors eventually chop off my head? At each stop, he stuck his head out the subway doors as they opened. You see the NYC Subway (MTA) has devised this really neat door bell like buzzer that sounds before the subway doors close. Mr. Karate Crazy chose that time to stick his head in the door, at each stop.
Mr. Hurricane Sandy Crazy - There is nothing funny about the devastation Hurricane Sandy brought to the region, or any of the REAL victims of the storm and according to this man, he was a victim of the storm too. However, I have been around this city long enough to know a scammer when I see him and Hurricane Sandy Crazy, as I like to call him, was only a victim of a crack pipe - nothing more, nothing less. Not wind, not rain, not storm surge, but good ole fashioned crack. As the late great Whitney Houston said, crack is indeed whack - but this man missed the memo. I guess she did too - technically. Uh oh, too soon? Too soon? I'm just saying. Anyway, This man stepped onto the train singing his ballad of poverty and sadness, which one might have bought into if he weren't dressed in his best 70's gear! Bell bottoms, an Afro, a brown leather jacket. He looked good for being so down and out. I guess the hurricane washed everything but his 70s wardrobe out sea. If I was too jaded to buy into his woe is me poverty routine, someone on the train did - Mr. Karate Crazy. "I don't got much, but I've got 23 cents," he said walking up to Mr. Hurricane Sandy Crazy with a smile and dance like gait. Mr. Hurricane Sandy Crazy gladly took the 23 cents from his homeless brethren, although it was more believable that Mr. Karate Crazy really needed that change. After providing his charity, he then went on with his will the subway doors chop my head off game. The homeless donating funds to the homeless - thought I had seen everything in NYC.
Mr. Gay Crazy - This gentleman missed the memo that the midnight A Train was not a platform for one to get on The Voice. After making friends with Karate Crazy, who finally left us at 116th Street, Gay Crazy began to sing Lady Gaga tunes and slap his friend's ass - who clearly was not amused. RA-RAH-AH-AH-AH, ROMA-ROMA-MAMAA, GA-GA-OOH-LA-LA want your Bad Romance! Shut up already! Before he made his exit at 135th Street, he waved to all of the riders of the train - pageant style - and departed. Some riders said goodbye in return, you see the crazy eventually wears off onto other and just continues to spread like a nasty little virus. Now in fairness to Karate Crazy and Hurricane Sandy Crazy, one legitimately needed to spend some time at a mental facility while the other was just a con artist who looked too good to be homeless, even if the clothes were dated, but probably had some sort of mental malfunction as well. Gay Crazy was just a drunken fool who may wake up in the morning and regret his make believe stint on a singing competition. Since I had no choice in the matter but to serve as a judge, I voted to send him home.
As for The Boy's part in all of this, he was on this journey to hell with me after all, he doesn't miss out on his sleep for anything. It doesn't matter if he might get kicked in the face by a homeless Stevie Wonder look alike. Nope, he's knocked out, head down, and might even let out a snore. Maybe he is a true New Yorker and I'll never be anything but a transplant, because at the end of the day, he is unfazed. I on the other hand have my eyes glued on the freak show playing out before my very eyes, comment in my mind, and then blog about it! But even The Boy could not miss out all of the crazy...
Ms. Lullaby Crazy - Because The Boy missed out on all the shenanigans, the powers that be were going to make sure he got a brief show as we made our way above ground. It's not unheard of to sing a lullaby to a child, but then there needs to be a child with you and usually this happens in the privacy of your home - at bedtime perhaps. But in NYC, all one needs is the desire to sing, a bench to sit on, some unsuspecting passersby, and a voice. And since she had a decent voice - she sang, in sweet tones inaudibly and creepily. I feel like she was there to simply remind The Boy and I that we can never truly escape the long reach of NYC crazy, until you're in your house. Of course, at that point, we've got one another to document! We walked by her, at which point I ran into the turnstiles on my way attempting to exit the underground. It hurt a little, I won't lie. Maybe I too was a little crazy, or just being punished by God for not giving Mr. Hurricane Sandy Crazy a dollar. Hard to miss those turnstiles.
The truth is a part of my enjoys leaving my home and knowing that I virtually guaranteed to see someone doing something crazy, odd, or attention seeking in nature. Makes for eventful days and something to write about. Gotta love NYC.
And since it is a catchy tune...
And because Whitney Houston was indeed a great vocalist...
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