Flypaper for Freaks

It's true. I am flypaper for freaks. They find me. I can hide, look disinterested, look mean, or even try and look freaky myself (I don't like doing the last option because I have a fragile ego). If you notice, I say freaks and not crazy people. I'm using freaks as an umbrella term that includes crazy people because I don't want to exclude anyone.



Let me begin with my most recent freaktastic moment. I'm sitting in a seat next to the window. I would have put my bag on the open seat next to me, but I hate it when I see others doing that and I try not to be douchy. There's this guy sitting in the pivot seat. I originally paid him no attention, since at first glance, he seemed totally normal. Then... his phone rings. He answers it in the LOUDEST voice ever. On top of shouting into the phone, I notice that his voice sounds much older than I thought it would. He looked rather young in the light-deprived pivot shroud. I realize at that moment that he's lived a HARD life. By hard life I mean, total drug dude. He continues to shout. I turn up the volume on my mp3 player. He gets up. I think he's getting off at the next stop... no. He decides to sit next to me. Prior to sitting down though, I get a better look at him (that's what sunglasses are for. People can't see you staring at them). Dude, he's rough. I'm not sure if it was the prison tats, the shirt that used to be white, the open wounds on his hands and face, or the gnarly teeth (meth head alert!) that initiated the magnetic pull towards me, but needless to say, he would be invading my personal space in seconds. When he sat down, I nearly became one with the wall. It's not so much that I'm worried about catching something (which is a very real concern), but more that I know unstable when I see it and I fear the unprovoked lashing out at strangers. So we're sitting there and he's still yelling into the phone. "CAN I PROGRAM YOUR NUMBER INTO THIS PHONE? THIS PHONE. WILL IT TAKE YOUR NUMBER? IT'S MY PHONE. THEY GAVE IT TO ME WHEN I GOT OUT. CAN I PROGRAM YOUR NUMBER INTO THIS PHONE?" and so on and so forth. Let us deconstruct this coversation:

1. The person on the other end of line has no control over the use of your phone. You can program whatever the hell you want in it.

2. The person on the other end of the line has NO IDEA what kind of phone you're using. Consult your owners manual

3. THEY GAVE IT TO ME WHEN I GOT OUT?!?!?!?!? WTF! Out of WHERE?

4. Hello Mr. Burnout. Please see point #1



Shortly after this, he got off the bus. I did one of those exhales where I didn't realize that I had been holding my breath. I was also hoping to blow away the funk and possible TB germs.



Speaking of TB! Yesterday on my ride home, there was a woman on the bus with one of the most horrific coughs I've heard in a long time, and I work in a lung cancer clinic. It alternated between wet and dry, you know what I mean. She's sitting behind me and to the right. AGAIN, I'm doing my best to not stand out, but I forgot to take off the sign that said "Hey! You should totally come talk to me. Better yet, come TOUCH me!" Yes, a moment later I feel a hand on my shoulder. Enough to make me jump and if I weren't confined by bus seats, I'm sure that I would have jumped into the karate kid crane pose. She then proceeds to ask if I have a tissue. I do, because that's what those little pocket packs are for. What concerned me was that she had need for a tissue. She was coughing up some sort of nastiness. Honestly, I didn't want to know. She could have been coughing up blood, but other than my own exposure to TB, it would have done me no good to find out what caused this desperate need for tissues. It is my goal to remain TB free. Yes, I have lofty goals. I really don't want a positive PPD. I'm too young and live too much in the 21st century to suffer from a disease of olden times. "Consumption" belongs with Edgar Allen Poe stories and days of yore. Not 2009. And definitely not in my lungs.

The woman retreated back to her seat. I could feel her phantom hand still on my shoulder. The bus arrived at my stop and I swiftly exited stage left. On my walk home, I took several deep breaths in an attempt to cleanse myself of busygen (the air on the bus. I do think it's an element unto itself. Busygen: Symbol = Bu; Atomic number = nasty). I must do what I can to protect my little lungs. Next time, hopefully, I won't be wearing my freak sign. Maybe I should start following the advice from this graph
see more Funny Graphs either that or I'm going to start asking people if they know Jesus. I know it makes me run the other way.

The Bus is no C&C Music Factory

But it sure as hell loves to make you sweat! (After she screams "Everybody dance now!" It sounds like she says "Get gay.")

After threatening to never appear and just leave our little geographic pocket sodden and moldy, summer finally decided to show up this weekend. It was lovely. I applied necessary amounts of sunscreen and avoided most of the mosquitoes, although last night was vicious. I'm still itchy. I half expected to wake up this morning and see the rain coming down, but no! It's still summer. Sadly, I had overdressed. In the short walk to the bus stop, I was already on the verge of a flop sweat. I had every intention of taking off my hoodie when I got there, but the bus showed up almost instantly. Normally, I wouldn't complain about this, but I was hot. So hot that my sunglasses were fogging up on my face.

Now, there is a seasonal expectation in regards to public transportation. One expects the buses and subway trains to be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. When you're standing on an underground T platform in mid-February thinking that you might actually be frozen in place, there's nothing quite like that blast of warm, smelly air that appears in advance of the train. Yes, it smells like dust, cheese and diesel, but it's warm. The same can be said for the bus. The thought of that first wave of b.o. tinged heat brings a tear to my eye. Maybe it's the smell that's the true thrill, or it's just one of those nostalgic aspects that brings you back.

In the summer, the one desire is a nice cool bus. By the time the bus shows up, it's likely that those jumping on have been standing in direct sunlight for close to ten minutes. Direct sunlight + 80 degree temperatures + high humidity + select individuals who choose not to bathe = hell on wheels. The previous equation illustrates the necessity of air conditioning. Today, well today, the bus betrayed me. I think the heat may have actually been on. I don't know how else to explain the beads of sweat DRIPPING OFF MY CHIN. I grossed myself out. I watched the woman seated in front of me use her copy of the METRO as a fan. All it did was cause the small beads of sweat migrate west as they slowed trickled down her neck. I turned my eyes to the front of the bus. I swear I saw heat shimmers. It was HORRID. Luckily, I had been able to remove my hoodie when I got on the bus. If I hadn't, it would have been ugly. I don't know about any of you, but heat can make me super nauseous. I also have a tendency to get a touch of motion sickness now and then. The last thing I want to do is yack on a bus, which reminds me of the time where Stacy A yacked on the T.

Poor Stacy A. Like me, she suffers from motion sickness, but I think her equilibrium is considerably worse. She gets on the T one fine morning and sits towards the back of the train car. When the T is running through the tunnels, it can often feel as though you're hurtling through space, which for those of us with the motion issue find HIGHLY unsettling. Stacy A is minding her own business playing solitaire on her Blackberry, which is what you do with those things. She starts to feel a bit queasy and lightheaded so turns off the game and sits still for a moment. This still moment is not helping. Her palms start sweating and the queasy feeling turns into full blown nausea. Anyone who has dealt with this before knows that you must breathe through your mouth and put your head between your knees in a vain attempt to not throw up on those around you. The good thing about that particular act is that it also warns all of those around you to BACK THE HELL AWAY, which they did. (side note: I've contemplated doing this just so people might think that I'm not feeling well and give me more room on the T. I don't like it when people touch me with their thighs.) Poor, poor Stacy A. My worst fear was her reality. She christened the T with cream cheese bagel that morning. The whole T was stopped so that some poor schmuck could sprinkle the magic vomit powder (kitty litter??) on it and clean it up. Apparently there's a T rule that does not allow them to operate with vomit on board. Urine yes. Coffee Coolatta yes. Purchases of ass-fish* from Chinatown, yes. Vomit, no. When Stacy A was telling me this story, I did laugh, but I laughed while saying "Oh, I'm so so sorry. That is horrible." She did tell me about the secret T employee bathrooms where they let non-drunk yackers go to splash some water on their faces. That's nice that they have those, but as nice as those are, I will continue to fight against my sometimes overpowering need to be sick.

Luckily, today did not end in the above scenario. I hope it never does, but the next time I get on the bus and feel the dragon breath of a city conveyance on my face, I am bailing and walking to work. I'd rather dodge dog poo and half eaten pizza than watch 40+ people sweat like monkeys, including myself.



*Horrific smelling smoked/cured fish. The smell can penetrate several layers of plastic shopping bags

And now for something a bit more introspective

Friends! Oh how I have missed you! I'd like to thank Stacy A again for keeping this place from turning into a desolate wasteland of things that chap my hide. I welcome all guest submissions, but be forewarned, if I don't display the eyebrows of shock or get the church giggles, chances are not good that others will see it. Wow. I sound tough. It's true though. I'm completely against not letting kids lose. They need to lose. Every kid should experience the agony of defeat with a dash of humiliation. It makes us more rounded and better adjusted human beings. If we only win, we always expect to win. We become arrogant bastards and no one likes us. Whereas, if we were to occasionally win and more often lose, those wins would be so much more worthwhile. This is why I have no qualms about beating an eight year old at kickball. Yes, I have a crazy skill advantage, but if he were to beat me, then it would be true that he is the best eight year old to have ever lived, legendary if you will. I think it builds character and when I win it helps my ego, which I'm trying to rebuild after losing all the time as a child.

Which brings me to my "this has nothing to do about the 39" blog for today, Loss. Not LOST, that effed up (yet, critically and Jenners acclaimed) show that I watched for one season and then lost the whole plot after getting up to pee one episode, but the actual feeling of loss. There seems to have been a lot of loss going on lately and yes, all the famous people dying has played a part in my introspection, but I also blame the rain *insert stupid build an ark joke here (never gets old)*, as well as the impending 4th of July vortex. 4th of July vortex??? What's that? You ask. (Yes, it's strictly an American phenomena. Other countries/cultures have their own floating vortex periods. Should I dare mention Guy Fawkes day, United Kingdom???) Well, it's my firm belief that in the week leading up to and the week following the 4th, the weirdest/life changingest shit will occur. I contribute it to many things all coming together at once. Bad weather, whether you think scorching heat or crap rain is bad. Lots of beer/alcohol, amateur explosive use, and the basic American belief that no person should work on or around said day, ensuring that those rights endowed by our creator are both protected and exercised with reckless and stupid abandon, usually while trying to balance in one hand a beer and a paper plate stacked with picnic food.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Loss. So my biggest loss at this time of year was my grandma. She actually died seven years ago today. (*creepy side note: The whole time I've been writing this blog, I kept thinking about how she died around this time and then it dawned on me that it was actually TODAY. At that very moment of realization, I also realized that I was listening to Mary by Sarah McLachlan. My grandma's name was MARY! Ooooohweeeeeeeeeohhhhhhhhhhhhhh) Now, don't worry, I've had seven years to come to terms with this. Yes, I still miss her, but I know she wasn't very happy at the end of her life and was ready to shuffle off her mortal coil. I appreciate this time of year. It allows me a moment to think about what I really have, and that's what loss is, isn't it? Losing something that you had. But can we truly have another person? What is it that we're losing? We're losing a piece of ourselves, folks. When that person or relationship is gone, that piece of us that tethered us together is no more. It has to happen. We have to make that break to create the before and the after. It's the moment of the break that hurts most. It's the realization that nothing is as it was. It's the point at which we stand up, tear stained and roughed up, and take that shaky first breath of a new life. It's a good and a bad, a mixed bag, if you will.

I could keep expounding on my theory of how you have to be broken in order to get better, but I'd rather emphasize the importance of recognizing what it is to lose and knowing what we have. It's okay to be pensive. It's important to bring yourself down and just feel the raw workings of yourself. I find that music helps. I've come up with a playlist of sorts. Feel free to add your own. Mine changes all the time. Be safe this weekend. Don't do anything stupid, and enjoy your American-ness.

1. Pills – The Perishers http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml8ctOertes

2. Keep Breathing – Ingrid Michaelson http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fORAPkfVV_A

3. What Sarah Said – Death Cab for Cutie http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLiMD48oc64

4. Why Does my Heart feel so bad – Moby http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqLvbpcsPj4

5. Casimir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGEMx3TKxNc

6. Naked as We Came – Iron & Wine http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nd-A-iiPoLg

7. Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AratTMGrHaQ

8. Gloomy Sunday – Billie Holiday http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48cTUnUtzx4

9. Half a World Away – R.E.M. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuzFIpUS_Io

10. The Last Song – Elton John http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWTkt_ZRMxg

11. The Scientist – Coldplay http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqWLpTKBFcU&feature=fvst

12. This Used to be My Playground – Madonna http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjaQjaGYmqM

13. Bookends – Simon & Garfunkel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahuU3QwWkdg

14. Colorblind – Counting Crows http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0s7ycdUcHk

15. Rainy Days and Mondays – The Carpenters http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3glGV3Wh6Z0

16. And So It Goes – Billy Joel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eELB6NxrZ7A

17. Against All Odds – Phil Collins http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Sd0W1RyMnE

18. Wonderwall – Ryan Adams (cover) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gVxRvNfFLg

19. On Your Porch – The Format http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPnGYxewQ6Y

20. 500 Miles – Peter, Paul & Mary http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ilmwc24WYgM

21. La Pour Ca – Nada Surf http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOEFKlJsWFM http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107858486574/

22. Time After Time – Cyndi Lauper and Sarah McLachlan http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_mHHYKOIwQ

23. King of Sorrow – Sade http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PoSYrFnGnk