Lunatics (A.K.A. The Teddy Bear Incident)

So I was talking to my good friend TP today (who, as a Michigan alum, was none too pleased by yesterday's blog photo), and he had some suggestions for future posts. Since I trust his input (and more importantly - did inadvertently disparage his and his wife's alma mater), I've decided to take his opinion to heart - especially since Manhattan provides such easy bait for this particular subject matter.

Let's begin with today's trip to the spa. As you all know by now, I frequent Exhale Spa on an almost daily basis to exercise. And if you're turning up your nose or making snarky comments to yourself about this, might I remind you it is not my fault the best sculpting and cardio classes in Manhattan happen to take place in a light-filled oasis scented with lavender candles. Anyway, today I indulged myself with a facial and massage as part of a "7-day restorative package." Because sure, having not worked for almost 7 weeks, it seems fitting to restore some things. With a class at 11:00 and treatments at 1:30 and 3:00 respectively, I had a lot of time to observe some of my favorite Manhattan lunatics: The Socialites.

Socialite #1 is about 35-years-old. She moves in a deliberate and percocet-induced stupor. After disrobing completely at her locker (and believe me, not in a stripper-porn kind of way), she moves into the bathroom, where she proceeds to turn on a sink and slowly splash handfuls of water onto her torso. I do a double-take, confused by what I think I'm witnessing. She's still at it, not the least bit troubled by the throngs of women moving around her, wielding yoga mats like weapons. Wow. She is taking a bath. In spite of the fact that she is mere meters from numerous available showers that could surely be as efficient, and certainly more effective...she continues. Very well, that's one less foot disease to be concerned about.

Socialite #2 is about 50-years-old. I first encounter her as I'm sitting in the lounge, enjoying a cup of tea after my massage. It's quiet, and there's no need to change that by talking. But here she comes:

Socialite (dressed like it's 40 degrees out - it's 64) - "Hello."
Me - (Looking up from magazine, swallowing hot tea) "Hi."
(I'm hoping for continued silence)
Socialite (Smacking on gum LOUDLY) - "Mrrmmmhmmm grumble blah mrrrm." (This is all I hear)
(More of her nonsense talk to self continues)
(I'm getting irritated)
(Socialite gets up and runs out)
Me - (Thank God.)
(Socialite returns)
Me - (Shit.)
Socialite - "Did anyone come in and ask for me?"
Me - (WTF?) "No."
(At that moment, a therapist walks in and asks for The Socialite)
Socialite - "Oh HI!!!"
Me - (Please leave.)

Remarkable observed lunacy was suspended until Brad and I went to dinner tonight, at a neighborhood spot called "Popover Cafe." Not coincidentally, they serve popovers, and all sorts of regular foods made with popovers - popover burgers, popover pot pie, popover tuna melts - you get the idea. The restaurant is downright kooky, with it's bizarre design theme that combines french country, post-modern minimalism, and...teddy bears. Teddy bears line the windows, sitting on top of booths. There are plain teddy bears, teddy bears dressed in outfits, expensive Gund teddy bears, cheap Walgreens teddy bears, Build-a-Bear teddy bears...I think I even saw Teddy Ruxpin. It's really weird. But who doesn't love a popover?! So we sit and act like this is a totally normal dining environment.

About 15 minutes after we arrived, a group of three 60-year-olds walked in (two men, one woman). I noticed that the man bringing up the rear of the pack was moving extra slowly, eyeing the windows. After what seemed like an internal deliberation (and the hostess had left), he awkwardly stumbled towards one window and grabbed a teddy bear. He then walked to his table, where his dinner mates were still in the process of seating themselves. He clutched his teddy bear tightly. When his friends finally saw it, they looked pleased. He placed the teddy bear in the fourth seat at their table, and after sitting down just briefly, he got up and moved stealthily towards another window - taking a second bear! He went back to his table and gave the original bear a date, seating them side-by-side. This has officially moved past a little eccentric to totally psycho. And just when I thought he was done, he's up again - lunging over a table full of women towards a third bear! I look back at his table, and the woman is now holding one of the bears, splitting up the bear date. He walks back to his table and sits down, holding this bear tight to his body. And this is how the [6] of them ate their meal.

Now, I'm not one to judge - okay, I am, but I give myself at least 10 seconds before doing so. I observed this group closely and carefully. And I can tell you with certainty not a single one of them was mentally...challenged. I mean, at least not technically. I can also confirm that no one was suffering from some weird overgrown child disease, whereby perhaps a 6-year-old just appeared to be a baby boomer. These were standard issue 60-year-olds, who apparently just loved stuffed toys. Unfortunately, we didn't stick around to see if they returned the teddy bears to their rightful spots - or absconded with them.

Just another day in The City.