Maybe I'M the Crazy One!

Do I have a tracking device on me?

The crazy lady who thinks I'm Jesus comes into the Morebucks Coffee shop every morning at 10:30.

SO, when my roommate woke me up at 8:30 singing opera...

(a brief pause while you imagine me making a very displeased Kermit the frog sort of face)

...I decided, what the heck. I'll get up. Maybe if I stagger around the apartment with a scowl on my face and eyes at half-mast, ol' Roomie will realize that singing opera in the kitchen this early in the morning isn't very considerate. Considerate. Kind of like throwing a very loud party in our little apartment on Monday night that lasts till 2:00am and leaving the kitchen a dirty disaster area that I'll probably get to clean up, being the unemployed schmuck that I am.

Yeah. That happened last night.

So then I think, "Hey! There's some silver lining here! It's WELL before 10:30. I could go have a peaceful, quiet cup of coffee at Morebucks without worrying about Crazy Annie! Let's go! Nous allons!"

Seriously, y'all. She's crazy. Not only did she disrupt everyone's morning cup by shouting at me from across the café, "JESUS CHRIST, IS THAT YOU? JESUS CHRIST, IS THAT YOU? JESUS CHRIST, IS THAT YOU?" she's also been known to shout out,

"WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT TIME IS IT?"

Someone pulled out their watch and said, "Ma'am, it's ten--"

"I WAS ONLY ASKING WHAT TIME IT WAS! SHUT UP! I WAS ONLY ASKING WHAT TIME IT WAS!"

"Ma'am, it's ten thirty."

"Ten thirty?"

"Yes."

Crazy Annie then goes completely silent and returns to her hot chocolate with extra sugar.

Hey. Sometimes you just want to know what time it is.

I was very excited about sitting calmly at Morebucks without having to worry about any unexpected outbursts. You have NO idea. I mean, I wasn't expecting it to be like relaxing by a babbling stream on a crisp fall afternoon, but still. It was gonna be great.

On the way, I walk past two rather raggedy looking folks who are muttering to themselves.

I get to the café thinking about how nice and quiet it will be. I enter. A pale, scraggly-haired woman is bent over a newspaper, muttering. A man with dirty pants and a glazed look in his eye stumbles into the shop. I order my half-caf and sit down to answer some emails on my Flakberry.

The men next to me are discussing the Jesus Family Tomb and how they're happy Christianity will finally cease to exist thanks to this finding.

I bristle.

That's when I hear an unmistakable voice behind me.

"You should send your children to the Hindus and the Buddhists and the Shintos and the Hare Krishnas. They surround you with love and take care of children."

No way.

I look at my watch. It's not even 10:00 yet. What. The. Crap?

Dirty Pants Bill mutters something to her. Something unintelligible in a voice that sounds like gravel being mixed.

"MEDITATE!" shouts Crazy Annie. "MEDITATE AND THE PAIN WILL GO AWAY!"

I sigh. I don't even need to turn around. Instead, I look out the window and there's a woman with patchy hair, a paranoid expression, and schmutz on her shirt muttering to herself.

I know there are crazy people in this world. I know there were crazy people in Texas. I don't know WHERE they were. I didn't see many. I don't remember meeting any. I guess they keep them hidden away or something so everything will appear to be nice and normal and comfortable.

Yeah, I know there are crazy people out there. But this? THIS is ridiculous. Not only am I dodging piles of poo and puddles of pee as I walk these New York thoroughfares, but the crazies are out in droves. I feel like I'm in some kind of time warp. Like...I've been whisked back to Hollywood's version of pre-Industrial Revolution where the crazy people are cRaZy and there's a LOT of poop in the streets. It starts to feels less like the sophisticated City of Dreams and more like Crazy Island.

I decide I've had enough of crazy people for one morning. I pick up my bag and proceed to Café Netto.

I sit down.

I forgot about why I stopped going to Café Netto.

But I remembered.

"DUU! I'm f*&%ing pissed at choo, DUDE, MAN!! You f9*^ing need to f*^%ing see a PSYCHIATRIST duude! I don't f*&ing KNOW what I'm f^*%ing gonna f#$%ing do wit' my f$#%^ing day. You're f@#%ing pissing me off! Hey, have you f#$%^ing been to Hot Asian Chicks dot com? It's f*&^ing f*&%^ f*&%^!"

That was my quiet, calm morning with a cup of coffee.