I didn’t have to catch last night’s American Idol Seattle auditions to know that this city is full of crazies. It’s also the most educated city in America which means you’re either philosophizing on how people are good by nature and just ruined by existential forces or you’re sipping Drano out of a dirty Starbucks cup.
And all of this reminded me that I love crazy people. I’m not talking about the scary kind of crazy, those people who cut out patches of their skin because imaginary spiders won’t leave them alone or those who chop up their pets and double bag the remains. I prefer the one-gloved lady who accuses me of stealing her bracelet or a man who wants me to pay him $20 to stare into the sun. I admit, I’ll eavesdrop a one-man conversation on Donald Duck’s involvement in the Iran-Contra affair and other talk not even the best peyote could produce.
I’m hoping one day to spot the legendary Zelda kid who goes around Capitol Hill dressed like Link. I don’t know what’s more wonky, the kid rocking the two-dimensional sprite gear or the people in his fan club.
I haven’t encountered any crazy people in West Seattle yet. I did have to fight a woman at PCC over the last bottle of Burt’s Bees Apricot Baby Oil, but I suspect she was more ashy than crazy.
I’m probably not going to watch anything else from American Idol Season 6. I wanted to see if I recognized anyone last night, but the closest I got was the girl whose arms could fill up a pre-teen’s jeans. She called herself “fluffy,” and looked dead-on like my classmate who called herself “zaftig.” Not knowing what that meant, I figured zaftig was latin for “one who eats pot pies.” Crazy, huh?