Psycho. Volume 3.

A few weeks ago, my friend Ed and I found ourselves having, as we often do, tacos for lunch. The tacos were tasty and this, lovely and new, establishment also made available a selection of cupcakes. I decided that I would have a red velvet cupcake. Though I found, much to my dismay, that it had been refrigerated and was too cold to be edible at that moment. I decided to let it sit for a while. In the interim, we were visited by an old friend. Yes, indeed. There happened to be an empty table perpendicular to ours and she took up residence there. This establishment happened to be quieter than the previous and I was able to hear more of what she said. This one-sided conversation, as I had suspected, consisted mainly of gibberish. Though, I was able to discern that she thought that my cupcake was fancy. It was, most definitely, fancy. I have never seen a more sumptuous nor more hastily consumed cupcake. Ever.

Psycho. Volume 2.

Yesterday morning, I found myself at Los Angeles International Airport, having booked myself a flight to Boston that was to depart at 7:30 am. As you might imagine, I was a bit groggy, and was dragging myself from Starbucks, at one end of the terminal, to my gate (#41), at the other end of the terminal. In fact, most of the waiting passengers seemed quite lethargic as well, except for one. All of a sudden I saw a frantic woman running toward me and managed to, mostly, get out of the way before she sideswiped me. Some moments later, almost at my gate, I feel, what seems like a human body, hit me from behind and keep going at high speed. It was the same frenzied woman. And she heads for, you guessed it, gate #41. Great.

Psycho.

I have had some encounters in my life that would indicate that I am some sort of magnet for the mentally unwell. Perhaps I should write a series of entries just on that topic. But, for now, here's the latest... Not too long ago, my friend Ed and I were eating lunch at a nearby taco place. There was guacamole. It was tasty. All was right with the world. That is, until we had some company. A woman approached our table and, though I couldn't quite understand what she was saying, motioned as if to take one of our vacant chairs. I nodded, thinking that she would take the chair and wander off to her own table. I was a bit surprised when she sat down and started talking. I couldn't tell who, if anyone, she was addressing. She wasn't looking at me, or anyone else for that matter. I was only able to make out one word: modesty. Was this a commentary on my wardrobe? Was she Amish? Was she a Mormon? Was she completely insane? Then, she asked two men at a nearby table if she could have some of their chips. They said no and she replied that she was just kidding. It was at this point that Ed and I, having finished our tacos, exchanged an alarmed glance and decided, very quickly, to abandon our table and go get coffee. I hope she enjoyed the the chips that we left behind.