I give you, the magnet for crazy

I hate to impose upon you, but I need a favor. Apparently somewhere on my body, in a place that is obviously visible to everyone but me, is a sign that says "if you are crazy or deranged or just feel the need to continue to talk incessantly to a complete stranger … please talk to me."

Since I moved to Pittsburgh, I have been verbally accosted on several occasions by complete strangers, seeking me out in public to share with me their stories of triumphing over the imaginary … oh, I don't know, friggin' mutant orange space bunnies that are slowly taking over.

What is worse, this always seems to happen to me in places where there is no escape, no hope of getting out of the conversation without cutting off a limb.

The guy on the bus who accused me of personally driving the rent up in all the neighborhoods he wanted to live, I thought that was the crème de crazy, but apparently I was wrong.

Let me set the scene for you. Some people from Kate's work wanted to go out for happy hour after work and I figured that if I just rode the bus, then there would only be one car to drive home … meaning only one of us had to stay sober. (We flipped a coin to decide and I lost because she said I didn't have any coins of my own, on account of the unemployment, and so therefore she wins by default.)

Ok fine, back to the bus.

So in order to pull this off, I have to catch a specific bus at a specific time, get off it and then get on another bus, hoping that the second bus isn't faster than the first bus and I miss my connection and end up stranded. It was like those damn word problems I swore I would never use.

So, I got my wallet and I'm out at the stop in plenty of time, just minding my own business when this man walks up, sets his backpack on the bench and looks straight at me.

Immediately, my brain went on the defensive.

Oh no, he's a chatty Charlie. Oh no, got to scare him off. Look angry, no he will ask what's wrong.

Look deaf.

How do you suppose I pull that off Einstein?

Well start by taking off the ipod headphone.

Ok, Ok, Ok I got it, look contagious.

"Hey brother, what bus is you waiting for?"

I turned to see a man, about 60 years old, dressed in a t-shirt and cargo pants completely covered with paint, staring at me.

"The 64A," I replied, hoping he was looking for another bus. (Right, like fate is ever that nice to me.)

"Oh, good, good, that's the one I'm waiting for, too. I'm Louis."

That sentence began an uninterrupted explanation of his life, accomplishments, relationships, failures, bowel movements and various other ramblings that can only be defined as "scattered."

Now, in the beginning, I admit, I was kind of interested. He was talking about how his grandchild (I later learned there were four) had told Louis that Louis needed to share his "cheddar."

Ok, so he's relating a story about how he doesn't understand the hip lingo these whipper-snappers use today. Alright, well at least this is tolerable and this guy seems harmless.

That's when he sprung his crazy trap and ensnared me.

He said, and I'm quoting, "All I want to do is get to my house. I got two you know. My house is nice; I'd been workin on it."

Ok, not bad, he's proud of his house, seems normal.

"I got this door; it's called a Get Smart door. When you knocks on it, it talks to you. It say, 'Please state your business' and if you keep knocking it say, 'stop knocking or I'll call the police.' Id's a cool door."

Ok, that has to be made up. A Get Smart door, someone obviously sniffed the paint fumes today. Just keep looking down and ignore him and maybe he'll get the hint that you don't want to talk to him … worst case scenario you anger him, what's he gonna do?

It's about at this time that Louis tells me he works for the Italians, who are filthy rich and run this country, which he is OK with because "they only kills da people that make it hard to be a man." (Again, direct quote.)

Make it hard to be a man, who is this guy, that serial killer from "Silence of the Lambs" secretly wanting a woman suit? Oh god, he's going to kill me and use me for sleeves. Where is the bus?!?! If the Italians are running things, why can't they make the $%&* busses run on time?

So now, I am faced with a decision. I am giving off all the signs that I am not interested, looking away, not interacting, swaying on my feet and gagging a little. I even concentrated on making myself sweat more, hoping for that contagious glow I've heard scares people off, all of it to no avail.

I have three options. One, I can walk away, run down to the next bus stop on the route and hope that Louis forgets to get on the bus. Two, I can stand here and oblige someone who is becoming crazier by the second, or three, I can kill Louis and claim insanity.

Your Honor, I don't know what happened. We were having a nice conversation and then this friggin' mutant orange space bunny appeared and told me to beat him to death with my iPod.

Looks like option 2, with option 3 not completely ruled out yet. During this whole internal debate, Louis, having bored of talking about the Italians, begins to tell me about his past. Apparently – and I was not aware of this – apparently, Louis was in the army. Yep, the army let him travel all over the world and see places he never would have gotten to see otherwise.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that Louis – at age 60 – is a contract soldier, getting sent to "clean up the government's messes around the world."

Again, direct quote: "Yeah, I keep doing it 'cause the money's good but 'dey keep puttin' me in bad places. I just use my head and my trainin', sometimes dat's all they give me to make it out alive. You got to use your head and outsmart the enemy. Be aware of da surroundings."

It is at this point that I pull out my wallet and extract the required fare for the bus, (mostly to hide the smile that has grown on my face) and this prompts Louis to do the same.

"Oh (bleep) I left my wallet back at work."

And as he ran off, I couldn't help but wonder … did he really leave it, or was it stolen by friggin' mutant orange space bunnies.

Maybe I can ask them where that sign on my body is located.