Craigslist Cuckoo's Nest

I kept waiting for Jack Nicholson to walk into the room. Jack Nicholson as McMurphy: the man dodging prison by feigning insanity. I half expected to see him shuffle through the door in his slippers, Nurse Ratched at his side, preparing for another riveting group session. It would have been appropriate. I think I'd hardly have blinked twice had such fantastical events actually occurred.

I chose a seat on the brown leather couch across the room. I opened my book attempting to dive into the girls' book club pick only to realize that I wasn't going to get much reading done today. Eileen sat down next to me.

Eileen is a tall, slim, seemingly fragile woman. Her wiry black hair is twisted neatly into a bun on the top of her head. An antique gold locket dangles from her neck as she leans over regarding a pamphlet about Schizophrenia. She turns her head to look at me and stares. I continue looking at the page in my hands pretending to read, seeing her seeing me out of my periphery. I finally turn to look at her and she continues staring. Now I'm not sure if we're playing some sort of game or if she's frozen in deep thought. Neither. Eileen is just... slow. 5 minutes pass and she's finally opened her mouth to speak to me:

"Do you have diabetes?" she asks.
I look up from the page and reply simply, "No."

She stares. 2 minutes later replies, "Oh."

If trees could talk I imagine they'd sound like Eileen. I imagine they'd be careful and delicate. Words would flow on their own time, as if they had all the time in the world to be spoken. You can actually see the wheels turning, thoughts processing, mind soaring as she looks at you. And as you converse it feels as though she's been caught in the slow motion sequence of some bad film while you're in fast forward.

Steve sits in a rocking chair on the other side of the room. He's dressed in black slacks and a blue pinstripe shirt. Thick square framed glasses rest on the edge of his nose as he attempts to figure out the apparently complex remote control. Steve does not speak. He does not respond when spoken to. At times I worry he's not even breathing. He does firmly state that he has "issues with windows" and drags the rocking chair to the center of the room, right in front of the TV.

Nice to meet you Steve.

I'm thinking he and Helen might get along as she seems hardly verbal herself. She does however make a point of informing me about the large coffee she consumed before arriving.

"Do you think that's going to be a problem?" she asks.

"A problem for whom?" I reply.

She just stares. I don't think I gave her the response she was looking for. I look over at Eileen who's staring again. Steve is still not talking though now we're watching an episode of People's Court.

Thank you Steve.

For a moment everyone returns to themselves. Eileen reads the newspaper. Okay, she's reading it aloud but at least she's not staring anymore. Helen plays a game on her cell phone and Steve, well... he's now got issues with rocking chairs and sits on the floor: shoeless. For a moment I think maybe they're all just nervous. Maybe this seemingly strange and slightly precarious experience has gotten everyone a bit frazzled. Maybe I'm not the most normal person here... I'm just better at hiding my freakishness.

Cue Elaine. She is a force to be sure- a petite, supremely tan older woman dressed in a kimono like dress, with fanny pack, hair accessories, and garage sale jewels to match. I'm kind of hoping she's a psychic or a fortune teller, maybe even an old school hippie who just had too much fun back in the 60s. Of course Elaine enters the room, singles me out, and says:

"I know you. I know you... or maybe you just remind me of a soul I met in my past life. I think that's it."

I smile and reply, "Maybe."

For the next three hours Elaine will continue entertaining me with stories of her family, her ex-politician husband who slept around with numerous women, her Hawaiian daughter who's a hula dancer/dental hygienist, and her son who's apparently living in a room down the hall. She loves to give things away and attempts to gift me a hot pink purse "because it matches [my] snow white lips," countless pieces of jewelry, and a piece of art she constructed out of found objects including gold fish crackers and newspaper clippings. She gets nervous when learning Eileen's name. Eileen is apparently her lost triplet.

Come to understand now that Elaine is not a psychic or even a hippie. Not really anyway. She's is everything and anything it seems. She walks in and out of the room sharing various possessions, filling the room with stuffed animals, umbrellas, clothing, a ball gown, an Irish flag, a pink ukulele... She's like a Tim Burton character. Maybe if Burton ever re-made Marry Poppins she'd look something like this. After all, she's filling this room with enough stuff... who even knows where it's all coming from.

I try in earnest to focus on my book but it is nearly impossible. I'm now waiting for Robin Williams as Patch Adams to walk through with a red rubber nose. I'm now expecting to see Rudy curled up next to me, hiding from imaginary squirrels running throughout the room.

But this is better than fiction...


My dear friend Laura arrived on the island Wednesday afternoon. I had been anxiously awaiting her arrival after nearly a year apart. Laura spent this past year teaching English in Spain and being quite the world traveler at that. Lucky for me, I chose an exotic location, one Laura deemed enticing enough to visit!

I should not have been surprised when she called me the day before her arrival informing me that she'd made an appointment for a research study. She let me know that they simply stick your fingers 10 times within 3 hours to test glucose levels, then pay you $50 in cash and send you on your way. Again, I should not have been surprised that Laura would have looked into something like this while perusing Craigslist... needless to say, I too did my research, made an appointment, and got excited for my 50 bucks.

Little did I know that in between finger sticks, drops of blood, and chugging bottles of juice, I'd find myself in the midst of such oddity. But then again, I suppose anyone engaging in events found on Craigslist must prepare themselves for the possibility of bizarre and strange.

I spent 3 hours of an afternoon with Eileen, Steve, Helen, and Elaine. I officially gave 10 drops of blood and read 5 pages of my book. I came home with a 50 dollar bill and a rather large smile on my face. People are amazingly strange. Life is truly absurd. And I am funnily content with the goings on of that day.

Thank you Laura.
I look forward to the next adventure.