“She freaking… then she freaking….”
“Get out of my face motherfu…”
“Where the hell is this…”
“Halleluiah sweet God almighty.”
I don’t know what it is about New York. Or maybe it’s every city? But something about the “concrete jungle where dreams are made” promotes constant muttering or flat out conversations – with yourself.
All the above quotes are an ever-present reminder that people from all different backgrounds and socioeconomic standings are, in fact, crazy.
Take for example the typical “I’m-at-the-wrong-side-of-the-platform-for-the-subway” conversation between one’s self:
“Oh (insert any explicative here).” “I think this is wrong.” “I wonder where I am going…” "Am I in Brooklyn?"
Or how about the “mid-town-stressed-out-walker:”
“This is ridiculous.” “So many people… so many” “I hate mid-town at rush hour.” “(Insert multiple explicative’s here).”
And then there is the actor. He sits on a subway, fully engrossed in a manuscript or play. Suddenly his head pops up and he looks to the sky. Silently he mouths word you can’t hear and changes his expressions into obscure emotions you can’t understand.
You wonder to yourself, “Why is that man noiselessly screaming to the ceiling of the subway and then looking back at a sheet of paper?” It took me several of these instances before I realized they were actors, cramming lines into their skulls.
Finally, there’s people that are truly crazy and have conversations with the wall. I won’t go into these poor souls because it’s kinda sad. And they actually freak me out. Particularly when I happen to be sitting by that wall they are talking to – I just get very confused.
I’m not even mentioning all the iPod sing-alongs and incoherent numberings I have encountered! And I was thinking all of this one day in the subway – when everyone seemed to be talking to himself or herself! Why was that man speaking Chinese to no one? Who said it was okay for you to give me a free concert of the latest rap crap streaming from you headphones? Why, old woman do you randomly nod your head up and down, saying “uh huh?” And you! Yes you, you crazy actor! Don’t you realize you look ridiculous!?
And then it happened.
I let out a quiet, but ever so audible “Oh my gosh.”
Just like that I joined the ranks with the rest of them. By breathing out this simple, unobtrusive phrase, I destroyed my reputation of sanity and stability. The pressures of the city had induced a haze of chaos and infiltrated my traditional “filter.”
Was it excusable? Hadn’t frustration just gotten the best of me?
Maybe in most cases. But I looked around my surroundings. There was a younger girl sitting directly across from me, starring into my horribly embarrassed soul. She was my witness, observing my drop into craziness.
She heard that phrase. She knew “oh my gosh” was said to myself. I swear I saw her cruelly smile as she sat silently content in this loony asylum better known as the R train.
I talked to myself, and the world knew it. I am crazy.
Or…
Maybe I’m just well-adjusted ;)
