Crazy Lady Has Left the Building

http://mmallinson.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-new-favourite-crazy-person.html

My favourite crazy person no longer works in my building. I overheard her the other day telling a colleague that it was her second-last day and that she was going to "blow this pop stand." I thought about being worried for a moment, but I'm certain that she saves her aggression for fellow TTC riders, and that our "pop stand" is safe from explosives.
Before she left, though, she provided me and a girl I work with (dare I say, work friend?) with the best episode yet. This so-called work friend knew exactly who I was talking about when I said, "You know that crazy lady that's always on the bus?" ("The one with the bleached-blond hair and the red lipstick and the cigarettes?" she replied. Of course!) We've shared a few amused glances and raised eyebrows on the subject since, whenever we see Crazy Lady forcing her way to the front of a line, pushing past people on the escalator, or aggressively taking her seat on the bus. Once, she spoke to my work friend, causing her to be very frightened, but then pleased to have a story to relate. And once we saw her coaching a colleague of hers on the best way to get a seat on the bus (push past everyone in line on the platform and board before the bus is even empty).
But the other day...
We were all crammed into the elevator. Crazy Lady works on floor 2, which makes her not only crazy but irritating. Second floor? Walk! But on this particular day, the elevator goes "ding!" for the first time and when I look at the display it reads "4". Doors open. Crazy lady forcefully walks out and -- realizes it's not her floor. She pauses. "What the fuck?" Oh my god, I'm thinking. She forgot to push her button! She's going to freak out! {And more, do not look up at work friend. Eyecontact will cause giggling.} Crazy Lady strides back into the elevator. Looks at floor display. "Fuck." Pauses. {Do not giggle.} Is she going to ride the elevator all the way up to 9, and then back down again? {Do not look up. Do not giggle}. "Fucking..." Mutters string of expletives as she strides out of the elevator. Doors close. Giggles errupt. Other people in elevator clearly see the humour, but don't quite understand why we are hysterical.

Crazy Lady, you will be missed. Sort of.

In other news, I've discovered that the Crazy Lady lives in my neighbourhood! I almost dropped my grocery bags when I saw her sitting and smoking (still seeming aggressive, somehow) outside a coffee shop. I'll keep an eye out.