On the same day as the previous post, when I was returning to Astoria on the subway, the mystical forces of the universe conspired to intersect the life journeys of three crazy people at once.
It is true that crazy people are drawn to me. Usually not in a hostile way, but in that way that they want to communicate with me, knowing that it is only a matter of time, a straw on the back of a camel, so to speak, before I become one of them fully. But on the Fourth of July, they were drawn only near me and to each other.
There is one woman that I have seen a few times, and as crazy people often do, she looks perfectly normal but you know she has a bulb burned out in the attic the minute she starts yelling at people for illusory faults in their character and subway riding technique, all the while smiling broadly and laughing hysterically.
Her antics caused another crazy man, probably about six hundred years old and dressed in some kind of Dickens garb complete with a one-eye spectacle and top hat, to get up and move further down the train. As he moved past her, a little dog a woman was holding sensed the out of placeness of this man and LOST IT'S SHIT and started barking as the woman desperately tried to get it to stop. Insulted, the man admonished the woman and her "damn barking dog!" until he got off at the next stop.
Then comes your run of the mill subway beggar, a woman asking for whatever you might be able to spare, who passes by the crazy yelling woman, and sensing the challenge asks her "Miss, are you okay?" At which point the woman says she is damn near fine, thank you, and the fireworks begin to fly.
But the beggar woman loved the dog, who barked at her too.