Crazy Is As Crazy Does

There's this guy at the train station at 53rd St. on the F line that's crazy. Or at least he seems crazy. But I don't know.

First of all, he's funny as hell. Funny. Funny. Funny. On some mornings, when I used to commute that way, I'd let trains pass just to hear him. So who's crazier - the crazy guy telling the jokes or the guy who stands around giving him an audience risking being late to work? About this guy: I'd say he's homeless. I mean he's not bummy. He doesn't smell. I've never seen him sleeping in the station. But he does wear the same clothes every day. Worn not shabby. Disheveled but clean. And he's always in the station. When I went to work he's there. When I left he was there. And I was so glad he was. But what did that say about my life at that time if the highlight of my day was hearing this disheveled probably homeless guy? Did I say he was funny? Every day he'd riff on a new topic. Current events. Sports. The arts. Whatever. He was a renaissance homeless person. The Gordon Parks of homeless people if you will. So he'd say his topic, such as "The Jew are in our pockets." Then he'd always say it a second time for emphasis "The Jews are in our pockets." Then he'd calmly go on and state his case. He'd back up his topic with 7 or 8 bullet points for why he believed the Jews were in our pockets but they'd be hilarious. Hilarious but true. Picture Chris Rock riffing at a train station. One of my favorite topics was his argument why the white man is trying to steal your black woman. "The white man is trying to steal your black woman." Every word enunciated and emphasized. The look on peoples faces while he's doing his thing is priceless! Some are uncomfortable. Can't wait till their train pulls in. Others such as myself were laughing and mesmerized. He knew he was funny. He'd snicker at some of his own things every once in awhile. Here's another crazy thing. Crazy and sadly true. When I was offered another position downtown getting more money I actually found myself factoring into my decision the fact that I wouldn't be able to commute the same way, so I'd have to miss my morning and evening hilarity. "Is it possible you have a midtown location I could work at?"

OK, but here's what's really crazy. One Sunday morning, swear to God, I was in upper Manhattan. Really early in the morning, don't remember where I was coming from or going, not important. So I see the guy from the station the supposed "homeless" guy - wearing the same clothes - walking toward me with this amazingly attractive white woman on his arm and they were headed into this ritzy doorman building. She wasn't a prostitute. The doorman seemed to recognize and welcome her in, them both really. They actually appeared to be - gulp! - a couple! It was the most bizarre sight ever! And he looked at me and smirked. I don't know if the smirk meant "I recognize you too" or if it was in response to my facial expression and he was like "yeah, she's with me" or a combination of the two but I had to pinch myself. It was real. It really happened.

What the fuck?!?!

Was she a fan? Was he just crazy like a fox? Maybe he was really rich raising his "crazy" status to the eccentric level. Don't know. Might never know. So now, when I go to heaven (heavy assumption) and I get to have all of my nagging questions answered the first will still be to find out how the pyramids were built and the second, I swear, is gonna be "And what the hell is the deal with that guy in the 53rd Street station?"