It's funny.

It's funny, the things that you learn from living, especially from those seemingly insignificant eccentricities that are so unique that they can only be described as functions of "life." It's funny when you're in the midst of one of these occurrences, and you incredulously think to yourself, Really?  Right now?... weeeeiird...  I mean, you could think of this logically... as a matter of probability.  This has to happen to someone, right?  What are the chances that it would happen to me... is it because I walked this route today?  Would this still have happened to me if I had done something else instead of this?  It's funny because it doesn't seem right that life can just so carelessly fall into place and still be perfectly woven together to make you exactly who you are - but that mess still happens.

Well, I had one of those "weeeeiird" experiences today.  As I rode the bus home from dinner after watching an Iranian film called Three Women at the Museum of Fine Arts, I encountered an [I'll say interesting] woman.  She sat slouched in her chair, as if the plastic bags she held in her left hand were tugging at her, coaxing her to the ground.  She wore a brown face with black eyes that peeked from behind heavy curtains.  I also noticed the tissue she had wadded up in her right ear... how long had that been there?  Lord knows...

So... I'll be frank...  this lady was crazy.  And I ain't playin eitha...

Shortly after I sat down, she began giggling at something unbeknownst to me. She was babbling some stuff about how "she gotta know where to get you that burger."   What is she talking about? 

Anyways, I didn't think she was talking to me, but I did look around to see who else was witnessing this humorous sight.

Then I realized she was looking at me, knocking on my forehead with her beady eight-ball eyes. "What's in your bag?" she demanded.  I'm like... hol' up... is she comin at me? ... Maybe this lady's hungry... Well,  I guess I can spare her my leftovers - even though these days I feel like I'm a homeless and hungry college student.  I stammered, uhh... well there's some foo- 

"NO!! Uh unh..." she interjected.  "The girl's in the bag."

*blink blink*   .................  Whaaaat!?  

"I'm tellin you, yo' girl has to know where to get you that hamburger, if she can't do that... then it ain't worth it.... Haha... look at you.  Yeah, wipe yo' mouth.  Haha... yeah.  What? ... What? haha...."  And she kept comin at me with these aggressive lunacies that put me on edge.  

At this point, I was pretty sure she had "three women" inside of her.  Yo, this lady is straight loca...  Just look to the front, I told myself as I smiled with disbelief.  But the thing is, she didn't stop talking to me, or looking at me, for that matter.  She was trying to pierce me with her dark onyx orbs. 

So I capitulated.  I turned to listen to her, to respond to her ridiculousness and treat her like the human being that she was.  And in doing so, I realized how important it was that I do just this, for how many people have treated her as insignificant, burdensome, annoying, and invisible in her lifetime? Shortly after I began to try and listen to her, she softened up, and was not so hostile.  She had a story to tell, a jumbled up one, but a story nonetheless; one that was spawned from a hard life and adversity.  Before getting off the bus, she repeatedly told me, "What I'm trying to say is you gotta be yourself, that's what it's all about.  You gotta be yourself... gotta be yourself."

As I stepped off the bus, I thought about the realness of her message.  She was trying earnestly to impart some of her worldly wisdom upon me.  And even though her message was clouded by her many layers, I was able to wade through them and connect with her person to person.  Now, I doubt that she'll ever remember me, especially considering her waning mental facilities, but my experience with this looney lady will become one of those didactic anecdotes that will be with me for many years to come. And yeah, it's funny, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.