Just a lovely story...

For the holidays, I'd like to share a very sweet tale that happened to me on the D train.

Now, I like the D train; it's fast, it's efficient, and it rarely smells. But, it's kinda ghetto. Well, not kinda, it is ghetto. One day, I was sitting down, probably listening to Peaches or something, when I noticed this very thin woman pacing back and forth in the car. When I say pacing, I mean she was literally going back and forth, from one end to the train to the other, verrrrry angrily. She was straight up cussing everyone out. "Fuck you, man, you can't tell me where to walk," she said. She was so furious, it started to make people laugh uncomfortably. Sometimes she would stop and look at a person in the eye, and reaffirm with them that no one could tell her what she could do. She reminded me of a pissed off teen...but with a mild crack addiction and the ever pleasant odor of urine.

As she neared the back of the train, where I was sitting, I noticed her notice me. And, that's where the trouble began. She shuffled over to me, spewing out expletives consisting of, "fuck," "bitch," and then a mumble of inaudible garbage. When she finally got to where I was sitting, she looked me in the eye, cursed something under her breath, and began to urinate...

Yes, urinate.

I was in such a state of shock I ran to the closest door I could find to transfer cars, but of course those are the doors that don't open. I remember some lady tell me, "oh don't worry about her honey, she ain't gonna do nothing to you." I'm sorry, she didn't choose you to urinate in front of.

When the doors finally opened, I did transfer into another car, but not without warning EVERYONE walking into THAT car, "THERE'S A CRAZY CRACKHEAD ON THE LOOSE! BEWARE!" And, that folks, was the first (and hopefully only) time a crack head cursed me out and peed on me.

I know this is so wrong...but she really did look like this.

Here's a fun little quip!

So, this was a few months back.

My roommate and I live in Harlem, on one of the few un-gentrified streets left in NYC. There's definitely some interesting characters running amuck, including my favorite, our building's "security guard."

Now, my building is not nice, not new, and definitely not in need of being secured. But, somehow, this man (not really even sure if he lives in the building) has appointed himself the official security guard for our 150th street disaster. So, one day, my roommate and I were walking back from a day of 5 finger discount shopping or a random trip to Popeyes, when we spotted our "security guard." My roommate is also a singer, and was humming a tune, when he greeted us with an unusually friendly drunken tone. As my roommate was singing, he stopped us, and asked, "Hey you can sing, huh?"

Roommate: "Oh, well...yeah. ha."
Security Guard: "Oh you a super star, huh?"
Roommate: "Ha. Yea. Ha."
Security Guard: "Oh well, I can sing too ya know."
Roommate: "Oh yeah?"

Security Guard: "YEAH! HIT THIS! (including the finger wag gesture to the "accompanist.") HAAAAAAAAPPYYY BIRTHDAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY"

Now, this wasn't your typical "Happy Birthday." This was the most atonal, drunken, stuttering, hilarious happy birthday I had ever heard. And, of course, all we could do is laugh, shake our heads, and mosey into our protected building from our loving...security guard.

He kinda looks like this guy I took a pic of on the 3 train...

ps. Our security guard also told me that "around Christmastime I'm gonna have to give him a tip." Yeah, haven't done that yet.

Oh man, I lied...

Sorry, I totally lied, well, not totally, partially. That story below is indeed true, besides for the fact that it wasn't the first time something weird like that has happened. I guess it was the first time I realized I had this power within me, but I just remembered the FIRST time someONE crazy said someTHING crazy to me.

I was 13, in NYC (I'm from ol' dirty jerz so NYC wasn't far away) walking around port authority with my sister. It was around, maybe, 7:30-8ish at night, definitely nighttime, but not nighttime nighttime for the crazies slash tranny prostitutes to come out. So, anyways, we were walking about (my sister was about 25 at the time so she's the grown up in this situation) probably giggling as sisters do, when a dark figure came out of the abyss. When I use the word, "abyss," I truly mean abyss...like there was fog or at least a fog machine within the vicinity of port authority. So, this tranny prostitute decides, of all people to pursue, to pursue me. Because, obviously, a chubby 13 year old girl wearing a pink boat neck shirt with sparkly flowers on it, from Suburb, NJ would love to be advanced to by shim, or herm, or it. As this tranny prostitute comes towards us, she says directly to me, "Hey sweet muffin, wanna play tonight?" Again, my sister and I never ran so fast. And, that folks, was ACTUALLY the first time someone said some crazy shit to me.

She kinda looked like this...

And this

So, I guess I have to start somewhere...the beginning.

I started to notice this ongoing phenomenon my freshman year of college. I went to an art school, in Philadelphia, I like to call it Filthadelphia, but, again, that's besides the point. My first week of art school was going swimmingly, dressing all in black and rolling on the floor...ya know...artsy stuff. After I finished one of my many voice classes, I was feeling great and probably hungry so I left the building for a quick snack. As I was walking this old homeless man (I'm just assuming, he may very well have had a home) started walking behind me. I noticed him, but didn't think much of it. As I'm walking, proabably whisteling and such, he starts to gain speed towards me. Within a few seconds, he's directly next to me, grumbling away. And, I mean furiously grumbling. Maybe, my joy was bringing him sadness, I'm not sure. But, low and behold, as I turn my head, he viciously "HI-YAHED" me in the face. When I tell you he "HI-YAHED" me (it obviously has to be in CAPS, otherwise, you wouldn't get the full effect) he, literally, intended on ka-ra-te chopping me in the space where my eyes end and my nose begins. Luckily, because of my cat like reflexes, I moved out of the way with miliseconds to spare (probably even less time, but I don't know the word for that). I had never ran so fast in my life. But, I remember, so vividly, turning around with fear and angst, watching him continue to grumble as if nothing ever happened. And that, folks, was one of the first times I realized my gift.
:P

ps. He kinda looked like this guy...

and this old dude...tee hee.

Haaaaay!

Hi. My name is Ambe. Sometimes people call me Ambs...but I think Whambs is funnier. But, that has nothing to do with this blog. I've just moved to NYC 6 months ago, and the longer I'm here, the more crazy people want/need/desire to talk to me. I also lived in Philly for four years so there were tons of crazies over yonder. I don't know if it's my kind face, or my willingness to look them in the eye, or the invisible sign on top of my head that only crazy people see that says, in neon letters, TALK TO ME!!!, but there's something that attracts them. I secretly kinda love it, because I always have a story to tell. So, here are a few examples of the crazy shit people say to me on the street. Enjoy.