I waited for the buzzer to go off with bated breath. It was expected this time, unlike the previous weekend when I heard the buzzer and immediately crouched down onto my living room floor. My rum and diet was dripping condensation onto my lap when it rang. That could only mean I should drink faster.
Wisconsin was on the way and I had to drink the shame away. For selfish “investigation” reasons I had decided that all the warning signs to this attractive Midwest import’s craziness should be collected. This would be a stepping stone to some real answer to what his problem was - the source of his insanity. Why was he so crazy?
The buzzer sounded again and for a brief moment I contemplated clicking the light off. Instead I downed the rest of my drink and exited with no destination - aside from Crazytown.
Wisconsin and I started the evening with a stroll down the far West Side for a friendly smoke. We had some polite chit chat about the weather and some interaction with a threatening bum (we decided to give up half of our smoke to him…on 11th Ave this is currency for peace) and then he started rambling about his life. I stopped him and decided we should duck into a West Side dive. Without a drink I’d start to zone out and there certainly was no point in the evening if I was not going to leave Crazytown with answers.
Consoling martini in hand, Wisconsin spoke about his interests. “Singing Gospel music,” he claimed. I visibly grimaced. Why I asked. He told me of his upbringing in a Lutheran church in Wisconsin. I didn't mean to respond out loud with "Eww".
He went on to say that he had moved into New York City over a year ago and he was thinking of going back to Wisconsin to find his religion again. I gave him a dirty look.
"I need to get away from these demons and drugs," he told me.
I thought very seriously about bringing him back to my apartment and disappearing - only to emerge with a headband of devil horns from an old Halloween costume. It’s clearly what he expected from New Yorkers.
He kept talking about these "demons and drugs" and that's when I made the decision to go to the bathroom. Except I walked out the front door instead.
I was happy I had found my answer so quickly. It seems that Crazy = Lutheran Radical Freak. That concluded my investigation.
A few minutes later my phone rang and it was Wisconsin.
"Hello, this is the Devil speaking, do you want some drugs?" I answered.
He hung up. I can only assume that he prayed.
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