Why do I care what crazy people think of me?

Friends,

I recently had a run-in on the subway which was noteworthy in and of itself, but more importantly than the actual event is my incredibly odd reaction to it. Maybe you can shed some light.

I went to a friend's in Brooklyn the other night (I know, I'm kind of a changed woman) and ended up on the 3 train back to Manhattan the next morning at a fairly decent hour. Now, this is not just Williamsburg or Park Slope...this is BROOKLYN Brooklyn. Like closer to the ocean than Manhattan Brooklyn (changed woman).

When the train finally comes (how do those people ever get ANYWHERE on time?!?), I am relieved to find several open seats (because that far out in the middle of nowhere is pretty deserted). Needless to say, I felt pretty insecure in my heels and designer jeans and my pasty-ass skin. I immediately tried to look like a gangster so people would know I was tough (this inevitably made me look like a loser).

After I relaxed a little into my germ-infested seat, I began taking in my surroundings. And wouldn't you know it, I chose a seat directly across from a crazy man. He looked something like this:

So at first I'm like, ok another crazy in New York, big whoop. Then my horribly deficient olfactory finally kicks in, and I realize perhaps the reason I am the ONLY person in this man's vicinity is he smells like URINE. Like SO MUCH URINE. Like HOLY LORD, WHO JUST PEED ON MY NOSE.

Here is where my first bout of horrible judgement occurs. Instead of simply moving to another part of the train where the smell was more bearable, I decided it would be rude to do so as the CRAZY man might think I thought he smelled bad and get offended. So I stayed and breathed through my mouth.

Somewhere more towards the middle of nowhere-Brooklyn, Crazy Man takes out a packet of cheeze-its from his bag. He then proceeds to mash them up and smash them into his face, giving the illusion he has a beard of orange vomit. I look around and realize that still nobody has come close to me and my crazy friend in the past four stops even though the train keeps filling up. Though now I am sufficiently disgusted, I am sure if I move it would be a direct insult to this man's dignity to move (what is wrong with me).

Then, to my utter disgust, Crazy Man begins to sweep the plethora of crumbs that have fallen to the FLOOR OF THE SCURVY-RIDDEN, DISEASE-ENCRUSTED, URINE-STAINED 3 TRAIN into to his hand and then INTO HIS MOUTH. At this point with the image I was faced with and the lingering stench in the air, I am actually gagging. But I can't leave because I must not insult this foul, foul, crazy man.

Now the train is getting packed. And this man seems to have a stockpile of snack crackers (of all varieties) in his "recycled" grocery sack. He is getting verbal and physical, kicking the air and yelling racial slurs at the subway pole directly between us. As the train gets more crowded, people start to pass by him out of necessity. At first, he throws crackers at them. Handfuls of cracker crumbs he has mashed, dropped, and picked up again. Everybody is very grossed out. Eventually, he just starts kicking at people (thankfully missing most of the time). And the whole while I expect him to start lashing out at me, as I am the only one remotely close to him (about 3 feet away).

But just as I am about to get off the train after nearly an hour with this Crazy Man lashing out at every Tom, Dick, and Harry that passes his way, he looks at me. And instead of hurling crumbs or shouting at me, he SMILES.

My immediate reaction?

Oh how cool, this guy likes me!! I knew it was worth it!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Why do I want to be friends with crazy people?

I think all of you leaving me has had a direct impact on my social standards. Please come back. All of you.

Igg.

Yeldah