When I was a young, flighty thing (being so mature and grounded now) I would ride the Spokane transit to and fro about the city and observe the array of humanity that is up for viewing at ye local bus station. And boy howdy, if there are aliens in outer space tuning in to our goings-on on this wet, floating ball we call Earth, mass transit must be like some Comedy Central/Bravo channel hybrid to them.
On one particular occasion, as I was riding the number 17 back to my home on the South Hill, there was a woman sitting opposite of me who was talking to herself, quietly but vehemently. Her debate with whatever inner-turmoil was taking place was heated and fierce and when my eyes accidentally caught hers, there was a storm there that signaled I was better off suddenly diverting my gaze out the window.
Though I never voiced this minor encounter out loud, you can be sure I made some judgments about this woman in my head. Crazy. Insane. Coo coo for Cocoa Puffs. Yes, these uncharitable thoughts and more ran through my head. I will never know what afflicted this woman, but I realize now that the only difference between her and me and the rest of us two-legged, textually challenged homosapiens is that some people wear their crazy on the outside while most of us do our best to keep it under wraps for the sake of how people perceive us in civilization. And honestly, that’s probably for the best, because while it may be chuckalicious to your wife that you occasionally sport her undergarments on your head while folding the laundry, that’s not necessarily something you bring up in a job interview, ya’ know?
Seriously though, if there’s one thing that experience has left me with, it’s that the only normal people are the ones you haven’t met yet. Any of my coworkers will attest that while I am indeed an adorable bundle of blithe effervescence (says so on my resume), there are times when the stalwart little hamster that runs the wheel of thought in my brain gets a toe caught in the treadmill and wipes out. I offer exhibit A: Things I have actually said out loud to myself (and sometimes unknowingly within earshot of other people):
“ZZZZZzzzzzzzz…” (Unintentionally said during a Washington State History lecture in high school)
“Screw Batman. I’m Wonder Woman!”
“In the words of Julia Child, “MORE BUTTER!”
“I am an intelligent, attractive woman worthy of love, success and more Irish Cream breves.”
“Stupid ground!” (Said after face plant in parking lot on the way to my car).
“Frog went a courtin’ he did ride, King Kong, Kitchie, Kitchie Ki-me-o; with his sword and his pistol by his side, King, Kong, Kitchie Ki-me-o…” (I’m bringing Chubby Parker back all the way to the Billboard Top 40. You’ll see.)
“I finally got Netflix. My life can begin!”
“I wonder if I should have wrote this column about duct tape instead…” (Said at deadline).