I'm in Subway ordering my crappy Italian Sub (crappy in it's junk food Saturday kinda way). The guy in front of me says "hi" in that out-of-his-mind kinda way. I smile and say hi in a very distancing sort of way - the way that you are polite to those people you see in the Seattle streets who you can only guess are a wee bit not there - or a lot not there. I order my sub; all's grand. I get to the register make it a meal and the smiling crazy guy says "so when's the baby due?".. "Um, I'm not pregnant. Thanks." "Oh..." and he wanders out of the store. The second he's gone the register boy and I bust out laughing and I manage to choke out "wow, wonder if I'm having a boy or a girl and who's the baby's daddy?"
Welcome to Seattle. You get used to the new kinda crazy on the street. From my reaction my first week here of utter fear when a crazy guy chased me with plastic bags yelling crap at me, to being preggers 2x in 1 year (yes, someone asked me this earlier this year in the airport). Seattle really does breed it's own kind of crazy. If I ever really am preggers, I'm not sure I want the baby to be raised on Seattle water - it makes you nutty - truly nutty.
You see all kinds: the happy talk-to-you-like-they-know-you sorts; the hiding beer in trash cans sorts; the plastic bag chasing sorts; the talk to pigeons sorts... I'm sure other cities have their own forms of crazy, but I know more nutjobs in this city - and you recognize them and there's a naming-convention for them. Everyone knows who crazy whoever is and you wonder when you don't see 'em on the streets downtown where they've gone.
Ahh, the wonders of living in the middle of a city. Every city has crazy, but Seattle is just a bit nuttier than normal.
Happy Saturday!
