people are crazy ... continued

I think I might be one of those people that welcomes strange interactions with others.

Case in point: While I was at a bar the other night, I went up the bar and was pulling out a stool when I met a woman sitting next to me. I don't remember who initiated the conversation, but she said her name was Sara, I asked if she had an 'h' at the end, and she said of course not. I laughed, and said I was also Sara without an 'h' and she screamed and said, "Yay BFF." So naturally, I was like this girl is hysterical and awesome.

Then I realized she was potentially a crazy psycho stalker or perhaps just an overeager friend. Throughout the night she kept tapping my shoulder and introducing me to all her friends. I met her roommate, her roommate's boyfriend, some other dude and that guy. At one point, I heard her holler my name from across the bar. At the end of the night, I walked outside of the bar and was standing on the sidewalk when she comes bounding out of the bar. "You're leaving? But don't you want my number? Don't you want to hang out." I don't remember how I dodged it, but somehow got away... I think it was when she said something about being unemployed and hanging out all the time that I just bailed. Yikes. (Note: One of the things I love about Chicago is how nice and outgoing people are, but seriously folks, this was a little much.)

Then, the other day Mo and I were walking down Broadway when we saw a young woman on a bike get clocked by a guy opening his Jeep door. She biffed, hit the pavement, and almost the second her Schwinn 10-speed went down did the profanities begin flying from her mouth. I am too much of a lady to repeat the things she was saying (or I just don't have the space here). Yelling at the top of her lungs, shaking her fist at the man, creating an entire scene. The man asked if she was OK (she was going maybe 0.3 miles per hour and didn't even wrinkle her pants in the fall), and kind of in shock, wandered off. She continued to scream for another few minutes, sat on the curb, still cussing. People are crazy.

Random: Today I was walking down the street with Cindy when a black SUV drove by, and the passenger rolled down his window and yelled something about me looking like Winona Ryder. Who knew?

In other news, I went to see my friend Joe's band play last night and since Mo and I got special amazing privileged all-access passes that basically meant we could do whatever we wanted and spit on people while we were doing it, we got something of a glance of the rockstar lifestyle. Besides getting to drink PBR from cans in the lunch-meat-and-sweat-smelling basement of the club, we watched the headliners from a sidestage door. The best part was looking out into crowd and seeing what they see - a massive sea of sweaty teenagers pumping their fists and singing every word. I swear one guy was crying with this they-know-my-pain look on his face. Amazing. People are crazy. (And yes, I fully understand that ten years ago, I was there.) But it's strange to me as a non-rockstar that these people who, while being amazing musicians and performers, are people. Just normal, very nice people. But from the look of the pulsating crowd, these guys were gods. What a life.

Speaking of that rockstar life, it seems massively exhausting. My friend has been on the road for months on end, working his way down a list of tour cities printed on a card on his keychain. They crash on random people's floors and drive for hours in a van. My friend Joe was married two months ago and soon after left for tour and it will be four weeks until he sees his newlywed wife again.

So it made me think about how I just don't think I could do that. I don't think I could live that life and be away from the person I love. Then I realized something. I may not perform to screaming crowds of teenagers or wonder where I am sleeping that night, but I am living away from the person I love. I understand I made my bed, but you know, they say home is where the heart is. What about if you're home is somewhere (that you chose and adore and want to be) but your heart is somewhere else, in this case half way across the damn country? I do know that it doesn't matter where you are physically... but it is massively exhausting.