Let's forget for the moment the vampire scare (no, really) at elite urban prep school Boston Latin.  Or right-wing radio talk show host Tammy Bruce's on-air take-down of Michelle Obama. (Can just anyone get a show on right-wing talk radio?) Or my dinner with the ex.

Crazy is in the air these days. 

I managed to catch a nearly empty train at Park the other night after work.  I was able to ride exactly one stop in peace. At MGH a man got on.  As soon as the doors shut, he started testifying at the top of his voice. 

Now, I've said it before.  I don't begrudge anyone their love of Jesus, Muntazar, Zoroaster, or Quetzalcoatl.  But proselytizing about them at the top of your voice on a subway car?  I'm not sure what the point is. 

First of all, everyone else in the car except for me had their ipod earbuds in.  I don't have an ipod, and even if I did, I'm not sure I'd want to plug in on the T.  I wouldn't want to miss any of those schedule adjustment announcements. But that leaves an opening for the crazies.

So it was him and me.  I mean, he was still proselytizing to the whole car, but I was the only one to hear it.  He started off reasonable enough for that sort of thing.  You know: times are tough and Jesus can help.  But then he started talking about how there was no recession in Heaven, and you didn't have to pay for heating oil, and so on. 

Frankly, I wasn't sold.  I mean, he wasn't telling me that if I join the Jesus Club it'd help me out in the here and now.  Membership has it's privileges, but you're gonna have to die first. 

I think he sensed he hadn't landed the sale.  So then he started talking about all the magic things Jesus could do.  After you're dead he could bring you back to life, for example.  Well, excuse me, but if I finally do get to the point where I get the benefits why would I want to come back and have to pay for heating oil again? 

Or how about this: Jesus can walk on water!  Good for him.  Very useful life-skill. And then when he could see I still wasn't impressed, he was all like: "and Jesus can fly."

Well, if he can fly why's he taking the train? 

Anyway, why do I care if Jesus can fly?  That's Jesus's business.  I don't think there's any Biblical support for this assertion, though.  And ascension is not the same as flying, if that's what you're thinking. 

God is merciful, though, because the man got off at Kendall.   

A couple days later, in an unrelated non-religious incident, I was on my way to South Street to pick up a paddle from Marquis for my friend Iory's sixtieth birthday. A block away I heard shouting.  Once I got to South Street I saw the source of the commotion — a man in the middle of the intersection was  shouting up a storm, at no one in particular.  I knew immediately — like you do — that unless I turned back now we would end up on a collision course. 

I did not turn back.  Crazy was momentarily distracted by an old man who had dropped an apple.  It had rolled under a car, and the old man was reaching under the car to retrieve it when Crazy crouched down and asked him what he was doing.  I thought, "here's my chance!  I'll slip by unnoticed!'

"That's my favorite car!" Crazy was shouting at the old man as I approached.

The man quickly grabbed his apple and stood up.

"But man, that's my favorite car!"  Crazy repeated.

He used a not unfriendly tone, and if you had just came upon the scene and hadn't seen him screaming in the intersection, and didn't speak English, so that what was being said didn't have to make any sense, you would have heard something akin to the barking of a not unfriendly dog.  He was just yapping.  Harmless, really.

The old man showed him the apple by way of explanation, as if this would satisfy Crazy, and walked away.  But Crazy caught up with him, put his hand on the man's shoulder in, again, a not unfriendly gesture, and said a few comradely words.  The man immediately about-faced and walked off in the other direction, at which point I was passing Crazy on the other side, but knew I would now get mine.  The old man had basically passed Crazy off to me.

So I went with it.

Crazy didn't like how the gentleman had rebuffed him, and shouted back at him "Can't be friendly?"

At which point he started eyeballing me.

I eyeballed him back.  I was like: "what? I can be friendly!"

"Some people," he corrected, and we shared a knowing glance back at the old man who was scurrying off down South Street.

"Man," I commiserated, "you gotta be friendly."

"That's right!" Crazy smiled, offering these words of oracular wisdom: "it'll help you live longer!"

At which point he dove into a passing liquor store.  Close call.  Friendly doesn't always work with crazy, by the way.  Just so you know. I totally lucked out.

Right then, my paddle!

I walked into Marquis, and the place was empty except for the clerk behind the counter and a handsome young man who looked like he'd just made a purchase.  They were chatting familiarly.  I said hello, very happy that my encounter with Crazy had gone so well.  And the handsome young man gave me a really winning smile.  I asked about the paddle, and the clerk showed me around to the paddles, and said "we have riding crops as well." 

I said, "hmm, maybe I'll take a riding crop instead." 

Various scenarios swirling around my head. 

The clerk pointed to the handsome young man with it — "try it out on him," he suggested — urged, even — handing the riding crop to me.

I looked over at the young man, and he looked back at me eagerly. 

"Do you need some discipline?" I asked him.

"You tell me," he replied.

"Ga'head," the clerk nudged.  "Take him back into the back, try it out!  Take the paddle, too!"

In the end I declined, mainly because I didn't want to give my good friend Iory a used paddle for his birthday.  Tacky.  The young man left, a little downhearted it seemed, and the clerk chastised me all the way out the door. 

"You could have tried it out on him!" he shook his head, clearly disappointed.

It has been a long winter.  Crazy's popping up all over like crocuses.