Here comes a weirdo. He's walking down Second Avenue East with his arms straight out from his sides. He's dressed like a normal person, and he's not screaming, drooling or having a conversation with a streetlight. He's just walking along with his arms out. And that's all it takes to be a weirdo.
If he was preparing to take off like an airplane, using his arms as wings, we'd classify him as crazy. But he's not running around and groaning out engine noises, he's just holding out his arms for no reason. That's the difference between being crazy and being a weirdo.
When he crosses other people on the sidewalk, he looks right at them, probably watching for a reaction. No one asks what he's doing, or shows a confused expression, but after walking past him they turn for a second look, and then shake their heads.
The weirdo seems to be telling the world he's had enough. He can no longer behave like a normal person. This is just the first in a series of progressively stranger behaviors that will distinguish him from those who apply logic to their daily lives.
Last night, the weirdo had his breakthrough. He was walking by himself down an empty street at night, when the urge to hold out his arms overwhelmed him. No one was watching, so he could do it without the threat of being considered a weirdo. It felt wonderful.
Now that he's convinced himself to do it again in the daylight, in front of other people, he knows he'll be a weirdo from this moment on. He's already planning new weirdo things to try. When he gets home, he'll paint a sign to put on his front lawn for his birthday. It will read, "Lordy lordy, look who's 37."
When the fog rolls in, he'll walk over to the railroad tracks and surprise a herd of deer. They'll scamper off under the big orange lights, their long shadows dancing in the distance. The inspiration to spin his arms like a windmill under those lights will be irresistible.
At midnight, on the railroad tracks, at the edge of the woods, he'll act like he's the only person alive. He'll launch into a wild dance that no one will see. But if he hears someone coming, he'll stop acting crazy and go back to being a weirdo. He has a reputation to uphold.
Paul Lundgren is a newspaper columnist and a very nice man. His e-mail address is paul [at] geekprom.com. And there's nothing weird about him.
