I’ve come to accept it, and I’m not proud of it because I think it makes me shallow, but I’m afraid of crazy people.
I realized this last week when I had the good fortune to be near two crazy people at one time and it freaked my shit out.
First crazy person was this lady right here:
… who was pacing frantically on the sidewalk while waiting for her bus, and would walk right up to me, look me in the eyes and then pace away. Then pace back to me. And she was muttering. And I was scared.
If that wasn’t enough, there was this crazy old dude who was DANCING IN THE STREET while waiting for his bus.
I mean, really getting jiggy with it. He had like a whole routine he was doing complete with krumping, and gliding, and churning the butter. I have blocked a lot of it out, but I distinctly remember there was butter churning involved. Cars were forced to veer around him while he got down with his bad, crazy self.
I just wish my craptastic camera phone had a video mode so that you could share in the crazy, but it kind of looked something like this.
My point is this: I’m afraid of crazy people. And I am especially afraid of crazy people doing the butter churn dance. Now if that crazy person doing the butter churn dance was also holding a pigeon? End. Game.