Childhood Trauma: The Man who Spoke to Himselves

I remember an occasion where my family went to McDonald's when I was about 7. We ate in of course and I sat down with my Big Mac. I noticed a man sitting in the dining area talking to the empty chairs at his table. Whatever language he was speaking, it wasn't English. He was waving his arms around wildly as he ranted at the empty chairs. Every so often, he'd jump up and run off to the bathroom.

The latter was the biggest concern because I had to piss. I told my father. "I have to use the bathroom, but that guy is really freaking me out." Dad said, "Go ahead, if he follows, I'll be right behind you." Mustering my courage, I went into the bathroom.

On entering, I went into the stall and closed the door. Not 5 seconds after the door latch hit home, the outside door busted open and that clusterfuck of a monster stepped through. He began ranting like crazy on the other side speaking in tongues no sane mortal could ever understand. I could hear his feet pounding on the floor as though Satan himself was line dancing to a jig by Mary Chapin Carpenter.

The outside door opened a second time. All fell silent. Somebody left the room, and I heard my father say, "You in here?" I replied that I was, "What was that guy doing?" Dad answer simply, "He was just looking in the Mirror."

If you must co-exist with the crazies, either become one yourself or stay the hell out of the way I guess.