Last October, finding myself in Times Square for leisure yet again, I was standing in front of the Ambassador Theatre with Adam. He was purchasing a ticket for Chicago- and seeing as I have attended that musical more times than I care to admit (anyone else see Vicki Lewis of NEWSRADIO fame play Velma?...didnt think so) I was just waiting to go back home once he was settled. Milling about with tourists and the like, I spotted a slightly off kilter woman heading my way. She didn't look quite homeless, but she certainly didn't look well. Perhaps she lives in one of those crazy old actor buildings on 43rd...Anyway, she had wandered her way to 49th street and proceeded to wade through the crowd to find me. To ask me the time. I suppose no one else looked as comfortable in Times Square as I did, no one else looked like they could possibly answer her inquiry.
Loony Lady: What time is it?
Lindsay: 7:30
Loony Lady: 5;45!!!!!!! 5:45!!!!!! What are you? Insane?
The end.
Being called insane by a crazy person is quite the experience. I hope everyone has the pleasure at some point. It makes you think...does she know her own kind? Somewhere, way down deep inside her nutty little mind does she know something I don't know? Perhaps I've been watching too much Lost and Buffy, but that woman really made me stop and assess my mental well being.
Maybe that was her point. Maybe Times Square is there to remind us that we are all equal, that at some point in the day we all have to make it through the crowds that surround the Naked Cowboy, we all have to dodge the giant blue CitySights buses, and that we are all a little bit insane.
