Monday, March 12, 2007
Subway Thoughts With Lizzie
A bizarre phenomena sometimes strikes me on the subway. Amongst people in homogeneous black coats, iPods blaring Evanescence, and homeless people urinating, the mind can wander through those corridors of day dreams which are usually shut soundly, thanks to common sense and medication. My tendency to let loose my tenuous grasp on sanity while enjoying public transportation has given me a small on-going conversation with my general acquaintance. It's called, not surprisingly, "Subway Thoughts with Lizzie," and usually make me sound a particular brand of deranged. What better place to share these thoughts than on the magical internets!!!
One of the first installments of "Subway Thoughts with Lizzie" was focused on the basic mantra: "I could take that baby. I could totally take that baby." Of course, I couldn't, but for a moment there, I thought I could. This baby and I were having one of those mind melds when a baby is zoning out, staring at you (also frequent at zoos, when the gazelle are feeling cheeky) and, since I was going to my crazy space, I realized that this baby was young enough that if I took it and raised it as my own, it would never know. It would never know I wasn't its mother, that it had one been the child of two lovely, if poorly dressed people from Brooklyn who thought it was ok to dress it in a yellow hoodie with ears on the top. It would never know that it was stolen. On the F train. By me.
Of course, it might. It might grow up haunted and unsure, silently feeling as though something were dreadfully wrong, and that Mother was hiding a horrible secret, some hidden history that was slowly rotting away at the core of our supposedly happy little family. It might start acting up, staying out late with hoodlums, and stop visiting Old Mrs. Cooper down the street. It could start to resent me, sense that I was a phony, and then one day, while shoving black shirts into a trash bag, yell that it was leaving (don't even think about looking for it) was never going to call home, and never loved me anyway!
This is when I might add that this segment is also frequently called "Bat Shit Insane Thoughts With Lizzie." But before you begin to worry that I'm about to bogart someone's baby, I'll leave you with this comforting thought: the baby was in one of those backpack things, so there was no WAY I could get the baby out of the papoose, under my arm, and stand clear of the closing door. It would never work. Logistically, I mean. Probably for the best, I guess.
Stay tuned for more more Subway Thoughts (Coming soon: the time I planned out my outfit as a resistance fighter if crazy christians ever waged war on the island of Manhattan while on the shuttle between Times Square and Grand Central Station.)