Wednesday, February 22, 2006

I'm Torn Between Your Highness or Your Majesty...

When I was about maybe 8 or 9, my mom took my sister and I to New York City. It was amazing. We rode the train in, we went shopping in Manhattan, it was a real fun experience. As we were walking down the sidewalk, I happened to lock eyes with an old woman, which was apparently a REALLY bad thing to do. The woman stopped in her tracks and started screaming at us. My mom grabbed us and just kept walking. I was transfixed and stared behind me at the woman, who kept screaming at our retreating figures. A real KOOK! I had just seen my first crazy person! I was pretty impressed. Little did I know that I was being set up for a lifetime of such encounters. I know I have mentioned here more than once, and will reinforce to you all that I am NOT a social butterfly. I don't go out of my way to meet people in this here real world. But, that's okay! The Higher Power has this all taken care of! Instead, every single fruitcake, crackhead and chatterbox will find their way to my feet, because I am their queen. I really do NOT solicit this, honestly! I have come to know the look of someone who is looking for another person to draw into their web and I will do everything in my power to NOT wind up in their path. It doesn't matter, though. They won't be outfoxed by me walking really fast in another direction, pulling reading materials up over my head or faking a seizure in the middle of the hallway, they will start RIGHT in on whatever they've got in their head that MUST be shared with ME, their Most Serene Liege.
So, I guess you're all thinking..hmm...maybe something like this happened today? Wow. You're good! Yes. I had to take my daughter to an appointment with a therapist this afternoon. While in the waiting room (Where I usually receive my subjects) a woman came in with her older teenage daughter. Right away, their banter was loud and inappropriately personal...the hallmark of your textbook "ENGAGER." I cringed. I was playing a solitaire game on my phone, so I hunkered down and studied it with serious intensity. The woman checked in at the receptionist and sat down with her daughter. They continued the divulging of personal information that I am SURE I had no use for...the fact that a pregnant teenaged aunt already had a name picked out; she planned to have all "Irish" names for her kids, just like her baby daddy. The fact that, "Grandma hates you mom!" "Yeah, I know, why do you think I'm here?" You've got to know that I was about hyperventilating here. I know the signs, man...I know the signs. I could already hear the mother's voice turning expansive as she began addressing more of her comments to the room. The daughter ended one repartee with a shrill "whatE V E R!" and I looked up, surprised. The mother whipped her head toward me and opened her mouth...
...and was cut off by a younger college girl sitting near me, "Oh! I do that all the time...up at Amherst, blah blah blah" She saved my life, that girl. I was so touched. I mean, if she could do this one selfless thing to connect to a total stranger, then surely *I* could warm up to people...start letting ice melt from around my chilly heart...
SHYEAH. Fvck that! My daughter appeared in the doorway and I took off like a gunshot racehorse. The Queen of the Crackheads is too busy to sit around entertaining her subjects all freakin day long.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

August 17, 1977. You were 11.

Robin said...

What kind of awful kids were WE that this date was burned into your memory? On second thought, don't answer that...

Terri said...

Thanks for visiting my blog...as you probably saw, I'm also from Massachusettes, love to knit and am an RN.
Loved your story here on people bothering you. Think it's that "nurse" part of us that screams out to people?

margalit said...

My kids and I were JUST talking about this. There is a very obviouisly schitzophrenic guy that sits in the waiting room at my daughter's therapist. I don't think he sees anyone, he just comes for the entertainment. My daughter asked me once just who he was talking to, because he holds whole conversations with himself and you never really know if it's directed at you or not.

We're in MA too! Maybe everyone is nuts there but us.

Here via Michele.

Electric Short said...

some people are crazy some people try to force crazieness on others. For them people you just have to take it as forms of intertainment.See Ya in the nut house!

Suzanne said...

i'm thinking... "her Royal Highness of Lollyland" is a good name no? My mother is a kook magnet too! They seek her out.
Hi from Michele's!

Oh, and can you please come by and help me grovel? I need all the help I can get spreading the word!

MsSisyphus said...

Lottery tickets. The freaky wierds who cannot understand playing Bejewled on the clie or actually reading a book are international signs for "Fuck off. I'm not interested in hearing about the aliens/your personal saviour/what your mother said/what an asshole X is/a vivid display of why your medication needs to be readjusted" somehow view the lottery ticket as a magic "do not disturb" sign.

Christine said...

I think certain people give off an open vibe. I get random people talking to me all the time. (See Jody's blog today [www.bigdumptruck.com] for a story about her poor husband.)

When I lived in Waltham, I had a neighbor who was a doll but would talk your ear off. He was an older gentleman, divorced and very bitter -- his wife had gotten the house (as I heard NINE MILLION TIMES), and he was spending his golden years in a 600 sq ft one-bedroom. I loathed running into him in the hallway, because there was just no getting away from him without making him feel bad.

We were in the neighborhood a few months ago, and I went by my old building, which I haven't lived in since late 2000. His car was still there. And he'd been there 10-plus years. Sad.