All cracked out and noplace to go...

Every now and then, do you see something so bizarre that you know, no matter how well you describe it, you'll never do it justice?

That's what I'm attempting to do here.

For starters, I work in a "downtown" area. I know, "The Fort" isn't exactly a booming metropolis, but it's a miniature version of every city I've ever lived in. There's a downtown area which is fairly nice, but is surrounded by a ring of seediness. Seedy neighborhoods, seedy people, seedy businesses. Since I work downtown, that means I have to drive through some shady neighborhoods to get to work and to get anywhere from work. And since I spend a lot of my day driving from one story to another, I drive through these neighborhoods fairly frequently.

The only way to get from our station to the interstate is to drive through one of these neighborhoods. First, I cross the railroad tracks (and isn't the phrase "wrong side of the tracks" one of the most apt expressions you've ever heard?), and immediately, the scenery changes. The homes all have bars over their windows. Except for the homes in the projects. They have plywood covering their windows. There are two businesses in the neighborhood-- a diner which is literally run out of an old school bus, and a clothing store which, instead of having a sign, uses graffiti art to advertise itself.

So, that's the backdrop for my story. Can you tell this is going to be good?

I was driving from work to the hockey arena a couple of days ago, so I had to go through this neighborhood. There is one stoplight, with houses on two of the streetcorners, a school on one, and the graffiti store on the fourth corner. And I'm stopped there. Though neither road is a particularly busy road, it's about 6:30 and people are coming home from work, so there are four cars in front of me.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a guy runs into the middle of the intersection just as the light changes. The first car tries to get around him, and he rips the ballcap off of his head and throws it at the car. Then he starts hopping up and down, like a pogo stick. Hopping and dancing. He rips his shirt off and throws it in the middle of the road. And all the while, he keeps hopping and dancing, springing all over the middle of the intersection. Oh, and he's yelling. I don't know what he's yelling, but he's yelling. Or maybe he's singing.

Now mind you, I wasn't scared of the guy. He didn't seem threatening, like he was going to pull out a gun and kill anyone. The whole thing was more comical than anything else.

The cars in front of me are slowly trying to get through the intersection without hitting him. Most of the time, he seems oblivious to the cars and he just keeps springing around. Since I'm in a vehicle with my station's call letters plastered all over it, I'm simply praying that he doesn't see me, realize I work at a TV station, and freak out. I manage to get through the intersection, and I get a pretty good look at the guy. He looks crazy.

As I look in my rear view mirror. he leaps in front of the car behind me, and they barely miss hitting him.

Now, the whole time this was happening, I was on the phone with my boss, attempting to ask him a question about the story I was about to go shoot, but the conversation turned into me just laughing as I gave him the play-by-play: "There's some crazy half-naked nutbag going apesh*t in the middle of the intersection!" We decide it's probably not a news story unless he gets run over.

About ten minutes later, I'm on the interstate and my cell phone rings. It's my boss, who is heading out to a story of his own, and he had to drive through the intersection, too. By that point, the police had arrived, and they were trying to catch the crazy dude. And from what I could make out while Clayton gave me his laughing play-by-play, it was kind of like watching the Keystone Cops... or maybe a Benny Hill chase scene.

I've driven through that intersection at least five times since then, and I'm sad to report that no more cracked-out freaks have appeared. Sigh.