Fridays During Lent

Subtitle: Jesus is Afoot.

So, I know that it’s a Friday during Lent because my entire office smells like fish (seriously, they’re all Catholic) and I’ve again had to field a number of questions that require me to explain that no, I am not eating meat today, but I never eat meat, ever—Jesus or no Jesus. In fact, Liz even recently suggested that I begin pretending I’m Jewish.

“Why?” I asked. “Is there a fun Jewish holiday going on now?” (Pardon my ignorance. I know, I really need to read a book on this stuff.)

“No,” she responded, “I think Catholics just automatically feel uncomfortable around Jewish people during Lent…you know, with killing Jesus and all.”

I scrapped that idea. (EDIT: I just received an email from Liz expressing concern that anyone who may read my blog would consider her anti-Semitic. She's not. Much the way that I'm not anti-Asian [see below.] We're not hateful; we're just funny.)

Well, anyway. It’s a Friday in Lent, so apparently, Jesus is making everyone a little nutty. I had to run an errand on my lunch break that would take me to that weird Shadyside/Bloomfield/East Liberty vortex of Centre Avenue, which, from my office in Oakland, requires me to take the 71A. For whatever reason, there are always, always crazies on the 71A. So much so that I think Port Authority is considering changing the destination on the front screen of the bus from “Negley” to “Crazyville.” It’s ridiculous.

Today’s selection of crazies included a rather large woman with rolls of toilet paper stuffed into her pockets and the usual assortment of crackheads and dudes that look like they’re just going to hang outside the Cricket Lounge until it opens. There was also, as usual, a plethora of spastic Asian people. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Asians. In fact, I think they are a superior race, except when it comes to running in a straight line and taking public transit. They simply cannot do either well. This is not an insult, this is not racism, this is true. Take note the next time you're using public transportation, you'll see what I mean.

As soon as I got on the bus, I scoped out the scene, looking for a normal person to sit next to. I see a 30-ish guy, nice business suit, wire-rimmed glasses, leather bag. I figure, oh, he’s probably running errands on his lunch break too. Or maybe he took a half day because it’s Friday and sunny and nice out for the first time in forever. Whatever. I’ll sit next to him.

And you know, I thought to myself, I bet this guy would be much happier with me sitting next to him than a crazy. We normals, we gotta stick together. I mean, my pants are from THE GAP, people. And I usually look remarkably well-groomed for someone who loathes both washing and brushing her hair. I’m okay, you know? I'm not a crazy. It's March. See my previous entry.

I smiled at the man, and went to sit in the aisle seat. He swung his leather bag onto the seat so quickly that I jumped back in surprise, nearly falling into the lap of a college-aged girl across the aisle. “This seat is reserved for the Holy Spirit,” he hissed.

Christ almighty. Fridays during Lent.