Mmmmmmmm, paste

I've met a lot of crazy people in Los Angeles. They range from the outlandish (those who roam Sunset Boulevard believing they are the soul of Greta Garbo trapped in a black man's body) to the subtle (everyone else in LA). Most of them started out as actors but instead decided to pursue the career path of being insane and saying crazy shit on the streets. I'll be back home in Oklahoma with a paper route long before that happens.

You meet a lot of crazies in what has become a very familiar setting to me, the waiting room. Whether it's at a restaurant or a temp agency, the waiting rooms of Los Angeles are home to thousands of hopefuls who wait for hours to meet someone with a modicum of clout and beg for bread money. You see a lot of familiar faces after hitting the job trail consistently.

And today I met the craziest fucker of them all in a waiting room.

Charlie and I had run into each other in about three other waiting rooms. We never spoke because, frankly, he said crazy shit and smelled like it, too. Charlie is a 40-something surfer/actor/missionary (I kid you not) who was born and raised in LA. He's been married three times. He believes that God lives in animals. And while most people wear business casual to interviews, Charlie is always clad in a tank top that reads, "WILL WORK FOR SPACESHIP ADMISSION."

In what can only be considered a really dumb move on my part, I made eye contact with Charlie today while in a waiting room. So he walked across the room and sat right next to me. He introduced himself, said he recognized me from the job trail and without pausing shared the aforementioned personal information. I suppose he became mildly aware of my existence when, 10 minutes later, he asked my name, where I was from, etc. After I told him I hale from Oklahoma City, he said, "Ooooohhh, another Midwesterner!"

"But I thought you were born and raised in LA," I replied.

"Yes, Los Angeles...the mother of the Midwest," he said and smiled, as if he'd just said "I get warm fuzzies when I think of Grandma's apple pie."

I could have let the conversation end there, but instead I begged to differ. And after engaging in a debate with him, I begged to be noused and killed mercifully. I'm sure you've all gotten into a heated argument with someone so irrational and wrong that you found yourself confused even though reason was on your side. Well, there I was, minutes away from begging for another job. Instead of sitting in silence and glaring at the other applicants, I was having a loud argument with a crazy person over the boundaries of the Midwest in a waiting room while people listened.

Charlie proceeded to tell me that truth would always be on his side because at a young age he saw the devil. He also said that he could see inside my mind and knew that I was uncertain...about Los Angeles being part of the Midwest. No, I'm not making this up. And, yes, I kept laughing at him, which he said only added to my erroneous claims. Finally I was called in for my interview.

I hope to God (or to all the whales in the Pacific, because that is where God apparently resides now) that I run into Charlie at every job interview. Because no matter how down I feel about not getting a job, I'll always know Charlie didn't get it, either. And that makes me feel like God is waving all eight of his loving tentacles at me.