Crazy Magnet
I'm not sure why, but I seem to have this knack for attracting crazy.
On Sunday, after camping, the indomitable wife and I went to my father's installation at his new church. After the service, the family lined up in the narthex of the church. Why? I don't know, but we played along. Anyway, a guy comes over, and asks some sort of question. I don't remember what it was. It was pretty innocuous and something about who all of my dad's kids were.
Suddenly, I found myself conversationally trapped by a man who admitted shortly into our one-sided conversation that he had just gotten released from a mental hospital the past week, and that he was on a pair of medications for his bipolar disorder.
He asked me how old I thought he was. I paused, taking stock of his greying hair and general appearance. Before I could answer he says 'It looks like I've already given you a hint'. So, I look a moment longer and then said 'Early 50's, but, like you said, you've already given me a hint'. He says, '52'. And then proceeds to ramble. I don't know how to begin to describe how crazy people ramble. Imagine a story that never ends....that just as it's about to reach a climax shifts gears to a completely DIFFERENT story. And just as that second story seems to be reaching a point, the topic shifts yet AGAIN to something completely unrelated.
And the whole time, as I maintain my polite face complete with the appropriate 'reallys?' and 'uh uh' and 'yeahs', I'm silently beseeching God, in whose house I was standing, that someone notice my predicament and come rescue me from the man who just wants me to listen. Finally my dear wife comes by and says something to the affect of us needing to go to the other building, and I'm able to concur.
I suggest to crazy man that we can continue this conversation in the other building, and he says that he's said all he wanted to say.
As far as I remember, he said absolutely nothing.
Why do the crazies always talk to me? *cry*
On Sunday, after camping, the indomitable wife and I went to my father's installation at his new church. After the service, the family lined up in the narthex of the church. Why? I don't know, but we played along. Anyway, a guy comes over, and asks some sort of question. I don't remember what it was. It was pretty innocuous and something about who all of my dad's kids were.
Suddenly, I found myself conversationally trapped by a man who admitted shortly into our one-sided conversation that he had just gotten released from a mental hospital the past week, and that he was on a pair of medications for his bipolar disorder.
He asked me how old I thought he was. I paused, taking stock of his greying hair and general appearance. Before I could answer he says 'It looks like I've already given you a hint'. So, I look a moment longer and then said 'Early 50's, but, like you said, you've already given me a hint'. He says, '52'. And then proceeds to ramble. I don't know how to begin to describe how crazy people ramble. Imagine a story that never ends....that just as it's about to reach a climax shifts gears to a completely DIFFERENT story. And just as that second story seems to be reaching a point, the topic shifts yet AGAIN to something completely unrelated.
And the whole time, as I maintain my polite face complete with the appropriate 'reallys?' and 'uh uh' and 'yeahs', I'm silently beseeching God, in whose house I was standing, that someone notice my predicament and come rescue me from the man who just wants me to listen. Finally my dear wife comes by and says something to the affect of us needing to go to the other building, and I'm able to concur.
I suggest to crazy man that we can continue this conversation in the other building, and he says that he's said all he wanted to say.
As far as I remember, he said absolutely nothing.
Why do the crazies always talk to me? *cry*