July Write-O-Rama 19: Embrace the Crazy
It’s 2:10PM. 97 degrees. Too hot to sit outside and almost too hot to sit inside. The air conditioner can only do so much with 97 degree weather especially with most of the house facing the sun. Today should be the hottest day of the week but not by much. The average high this week is 95 so not much relief is in the forecast. We need a pop up rain shower to knock this heat down but it’s not happening here. It’s happened all around us even within a couple of miles of the house over the last two days but not right here at the house.
Last night, I sat outside for no more than 10 minutes and got attacked by mosquitos. I won’t make that mistake again.
Today was the deadline to decide between traditional, in-person high school or remote online high school and daughter #2 decided on remote online high school since she gets to stay in marching band either way. I hope she made the right decision. Time will tell. I think she’s more over the traditional high school scenario than she is afraid of the coronavirus but who could blame her. She’s been home since March. It would be tough for anyone to go back to the classroom especially with freedom looming in a few short months. She also has only a couple of required classes left before graduation so why not do them at home. All school will probably end up remote anyway since the numbers here are terrible. The positivity rate here is over 12% while New York has to down to about 1%. Not a good sign.
I just heard Year of the Cat on the radio right before coming in here to the kitchen to write this.
Year of the Cat reminds me of a Chinese restaurant, House of Choy, my mother and I would go to when we were visiting my grandmother. This was YEARS ago since my grandmother died in 1978 and it’s possible that we continued to go down to House of Choy to eat for a few more years after 1978 but we didn’t keep doing it long. House of Choy is long gone now. Three things about House of Choy stick out in my mind. First, it was a dark, completely 70’s fashioned restaurant. There was a lot of red. Red carpets. Red booths. I want to say red on the ceiling tiles even. But it was also somehow still very dimly let. Second, when we would go to pay, they have American Express brochures with the name and address of the restaurant on them. I guess this was so the restaurant would get some sort of reward if someone applied for a card using one of the brochures they had. Third, Year of the Cat seemed to always play over the speakers while we were there. They must have had the same music looped to play over and over. It’s weird what we remember, eh? I haven’t driven through there in five or six years but the last time I did, I remembered all sorts of landmarks on the way to where my grandmother lived back then.
This brings me to another story I keep meaning to share here on Odd Storytime. I don’t know why I have the urge (pun intended) to write about this. I have told the story before on the podcast, I believe.
I think it was in 1999. I was at a mall here in the greater Armpit area and I had to go to the bathroom. I went to the bathroom. Urge relieved. I go to the sink to wash my hands and as I am walking to the sink, this giant of a man is walking in and past me toward the stalls. He was tall and wide. Big, big guy. So tall that the crown of his head stuck up over the top of the stall. I would not remember that fact if it was not for what happened next.
I am washing my hands when suddenly I hear this man laughing, like loud, hysterical laughing. I pull my hands back from the faucet and the water stops. I guess it was one of those sensor things. That is when I hear not just the laughing but the sound of what I think for a second is pouring water until I look toward the direction of the laughter and the “pouring” and that is when I see that the crown of the head and the shoes in the stall are both rotating in a circle.
That’s right, giant of a man is peeing in a circle all over the stall, wall and floor while laughing like this is the funniest thing ever. I did not dry my hands. I got out of there as quickly as possible.
I did not stick around to see this guy emerge from the bathroom so I do not know if he came out with whiz-covered shoes.
So I ask, dear reader, does everyone not have similarly weird stories? Is it just me? I have tons of stories, some almost as weird as this one (the guy with the mohawk pooping in the sink, the kid humping the bathroom floor, etc.) but this one is my weirdest one.
I tell people some of these stories and I get to hear other weird stories every so often (the guy that got his hair cut and immediately took off his shirt and started shaking the hairs out before walking out of the barber shop), but it does seem like I have a fondness for weirdness so I either remember the stories more vividly than most people or I have no internal mechanism that gets me away from situations where weirdness might occur. Maybe normal people don’t pee in department stores so they avoid encounters with peeing giants.
Some situations get so weird and so crazy that you just have to laugh. It’s like this whole coronavirus thing. The world is just about turned upside down and what choice do we have but to embrace the crazy and keep going. In my mind, this is the perfect time to embark on writing as a serious new hobby even if it just turns out to be an outlet for my thoughts versus something I do more publicly. I did write for the newspaper in college for a year and I took a journalism class before becoming concerned that the internet might destroy the newspaper industry so I better not do that and that was way back in 1992. I also wasn’t as much of a creative person back then so getting ideas on what to write about was quite the struggle for me. Now I am full of ideas. You might say full of other things. Maybe I am full of both.
But dreams have expiration dates so I have to step on the gas on this one. That’s why I write every day. I keep pounding out the words hoping that somewhere deep down inside of myself there is a story to tell and if that story involves peeing giants and pooping guys with mohawks, that’s fine by me.