On Friday I was waiting for a train. There was a guy playing a tuba. Tubas don't interest me. They are large and not that pleasant sounding. Just like my dad when he's sleeping.

Anyway, a lady came into the subway station and started yelling at the tuba player. I would have liked to yell at this tuba player as well, but because I am somewhat sane, at least for now, I did not. This lady was insane. She had bright red lipstick on, which was put on haphazardly. And if there's one thing that signifies a crazy lady, it's bright red haphazardly applied lipstick. So she's yelling at him, but I am all the way at the other end of the platform, and I can't hear what she's saying. Everyone else moves away from her. I move closer. She might as well have been screaming, "Mike! This is something you should put on your blog!"

From some of the words I caught, I gathered she was now, or at one point, homeless. And I think she was yelling at this guy for not respecting the subway, which was/is her home. Anyway, I got closer, and the only line that I was able to understand was, "How would you like it if you fell asleep on the subway, only to wake up to a man jerking off on your face?! It was traumatizing!"

Good Lord! I would not like that at all. And that would, indeed, be traumatizing.

What was even weirder, though, was after this five minute tirade, she got on the train, sat down next to a woman who was filing her nails, and started to talk about knitting. The lady she sat next to was polite and smiled and nodded like a nice person tends to do. But the lady just transformed from a crazy screaming headcase, yelling about people jerking off on her face to a kind of weird, somewhat nice lady who talked about knitting.

New York City, you so crazy!