The crazy ones.

Today is Saturday, so there is no bus driving for me. Time to go back and talk about something I promised to get back to later. The crazy people. The nuts. The 51-50's I have no idea where that term comes from. If anyone knows, please leave it in a comment for me. I should probably be more politically correct and say 'the mentally ill'. But no. Because mental illness takes a lot of forms, and there should be no stigma attached. I'm not talking about your everyday person who struggles to keep on the sane side. I'm talking about the people who have long since given up any attempt at normalcy and have embraced the wild side.
There is one woman who walks up and down Broadway topless. I don't mean on the sidewalk, either. No, she walks out in traffic, hoping (I suppose) to call more attention to herself, or maybe to get hit by a car. If it weren't so sad, it would be funny. Sometimes it's funny anyway, except when she's blocking your way and making you LATE! Bus drivers hate being late because it means we get no break at the end of the line. But the time we get there, it's already time to leave again. YOU try driving for eight hours straight without stretching your legs or going to the bathroom! I would be as crazy as some of my passengers if I didn't take a few minutes to collect myself at the end of the line. But I digress...
Aside from people who like to walk out in traffic, (and they are numerous) probably the most common thing we see is people who talk to themselves. Or, more acurately, they talk to people who aren't there. Since the advent of the cell phone, they often talk on the phone, with one minor variation. There's no phone! No ear piece. Nothing. Their conversations range from wildly angry ravings to imaginary conversations with important people, like the President. Or Paul Jablonsky. I always wonder this: do they think they are really talking to someone? Or do they think anyone believes they're talking to someone? You can't ask.
One thing I've learned in my years as a driver is NOT to engage a lunatic in conversation. The mildy delusional, maybe. But only if you go along with their delusion, and only for laughs. They often love to talk to the bus driver, telling interesting stories which couldn't possibly be true. I once had a bum, a stinky one, who claimed to be highly educated, but no one would give him a job because of reverse discrimination. I wanted to ask him if he tried taking a bath before going to the interview, but I bit my tongue. It's one thing to be amused at someone's delusional thinking, but it's really not nice to make fun of them out loud. Anyway, he probably WAS highly educated.
It really is sad, and yet somehow amusing at the same time. I don't like to dwell on sad feelings (unless I'm feeling sorry for MYSELF) so I try to stay on the bemused side. It's easy to become impatient with or scornful of the mentally ill. It's not always easy to have compassion for them, especially when there are so many, and they all seem to be bent on making your day more difficult. But they ARE people, and they ARE sick. And I feel better at the end of the day if I have made at least some effort at kindness. Or at least abstained from being unkind.