I once saw a disheveled man playing the trumpet while driving through traffic. He was in a long beat up car that had to have had at least ten years on me. I was in my old car back then. I had to lower my tinted windows in order to take a picture. One guy pulled up beside me laughing in disbelief. He asked if I took a picture and I told him, "It didn't come out well. I'm afraid if he sees me take one, he may get out and stab me." The guy was a crazy.

Crazies should never be underestimated. Their danger lies with the unknown. That's why you don't take pictures of a man playing a two handed instrument while driving. It's why everyone tends to stay away from Garey Busey. It's also why you stay the hell away from a girl claiming to have a knife in her purse.

I was 21 and had just moved in with my older brother when I ran into a crazy. Hoboken was new to me, so I always went out with him and his friends. They all had at least two years on me. It was intimidating in the beginning for obvious reasons. I wanted to fit in though, so I did my best to impress everyone whenever we went out. I did well.

My brother's favorite spot was a lounge type bar on Washington Street. He knew everyone who worked there because he's the type of guy who always has to have a bottle and a table. He wasn't the sort to walk around. He demanded people came to him instead. I never bought into it. I'm sure he would've preferred my method.

I've mentioned meeting women at bars is like going to the mall before. In this case, style is comparable as well. Generally there are different types of people who frequent malls, same thing in bars. There are the people who grab a table, teenagers that stand around and the casual shopper that peruses. There are a shit ton more types, but those are the basic ones and the ones my brother and I relate to.

I don't necessarily run around. I wander and I try out new things. If something doesn't work or, fit, I'll put it back or move on to something new. In particular, I prefer to go to a new section and start fresh when things go wrong. If you can't tell whether I'm talking about bars or malls, that's because I act exactly the same in both places.

I've always been relentless. Sundays were for breaks while the rest of the week was an opportunity I could not pass up. When I was 21, every weekend was the same. There were always more women to meet. I didn't succeed very often, but I'll be damned if I didn't try.

On the night I met the Crazy, I was with my brother and his friend. We were at his usual spot but it was actually empty. There were less than a handful of people at the bar and I had immediately exhausted my options. I mentioned a woman's shirt and had asked her something about it, but she gave me a look of disgust and moved on.

The guys had seen me strike out and had a good laugh. The three of us then stood together at the end of the bar closest to the door. The plan was to have a drink and wait it out. I tried to enjoy my gin and tonic, but I was anxious as my brother and his friend continued to talk while I tried to figure out what to do with my hands.

Everyone looked towards the door as a blonde stepped in. She had a full figure and her blouse was low cut. The woman I attempted to talk to before became an afterthought. I didn't even notice the woman trailing behind her. I was staring at the red dress that hugged her hips and outlined her flawless body.

She walked directly to the left of me and stood at the bar. It took me three seconds to open. "Is your name Adrienne?" I asked. Matt had been using that line all the time. I felt pathetic. She looked over at me and scanned me with her eyes briefly. She then turned around and walked down the bar.

I shook my head and cursed under my breath. I had a shot and I couldn't have fucked it up more had I tried. I went back to listening in on my brother and friend's conversation. At some point, an Asian girl showed up who was friends with them. My brother quickly ordered a round of tequila shots for the group. I was eager to have a splash of naughty water and brush off my poor performances. We were all a second away from taking our shots when Jacob stopped me.

"Heads up, target coming for you at 6," Jacob whispered reassuringly while looking past my shoulder.

I didn't know what he was giving me a heads up about. I had to process it for a few seconds while he repeated himself. When I realized what he meant, I decided to let her wait a second. I could see her peripherally and I was shocked to see the red dress and blonde hair. I then turned to her, with my shot in hand, and went in for the second chance that most people never get.

"What are you drinking tonight?" I asked.

She didn't answer me. Instead she kept looking at me. She was facing me directly with her right hip leaning against the bar. She was as tall as me and it was slightly intimidating. The silence made me feel uncomfortable.

"Vodka soda?" I asked, still no response. "You should take a shot with me," I said while holding up my shot of tequila.

"Okay," she finally replied.

I then ordered another shot for her. It was served immediately since the bar was still quiet. We took our shots and she started to actually form sentences and respond to me. What we talked about was meaningless. Her body posture and her countenance were the only things that mattered. She got closer to me every few minutes.

I'd never seen a girl go after a guy before. I couldn't even imagine one actually going after me. Nonetheless, she was actively seducing me. She had already gotten my attention by simply walking in, but now she was headstrong and tearing me to pieces. It was as if I was a girl being manipulated by a guy that night. She didn't actually listen to a word I said. When she licked her lips, I knew it was time.

I grabbed her hip, leaned forward and made out with her. I was unsure at first, but she repeatedly licked her lips in a slow circular manner. It was both sexy and frightening at the same time. We continued to make out for several minutes as my friends looked on. I'm sure the bar was watching as well. I know her friend was.

The woman in red was suddenly pulled away from me. Her short brunette friend was below average looking. The rage she had in her made her even nastier. The blonde was behind her as she stood between us. I saw the red dress scurry away to the bathroom as her nasty friend went into attack mode.

"I better not see you fucking leave with my friend!" she shouted at me.

The thought had never even occurred to me. "Uh... okay?"

"I'm serious. If you fucking take her home I will fucking kill you!" she responded angrily.

"Well... where does that leave you and I?" I said jokingly.

"You think I'm fucking kidding? I have a knife in my pocket and I will cut you if you fucking think about leaving with her!" she added while gesturing towards her mini purse.

The blonde came back as the back and forth continued in front of her. I held her as I did my best to calm her confrontational friend down. My friends continued to watch the nastiness as it unfolded. I was eventually able to convince her that my intentions were good.

"You seem like a good guy, so give me your phone," the angry friend demanded.

"Are you going to throw it against the wall?" I asked half jokingly.

"Give me your phone," she repeated. I almost couldn't say no, so I did. "This is Cynthia's number. Call her and take her out to dinner later this week."

As soon as she typed in her number, she left with the blonde whose name I just realized was Cynthia. I was stunned at everything that had occurred and did my best to recant the events that had unfolded to my friends. Jacob had actually heard her say that she would stab me and was actually angry. By this time, his Asian friend had gone home.

"If Soon wasn't here when that happened, I would've knocked that bitch out," Jacob exclaimed.

My brother laughed and said, "I can't believe that just happened. She wanted to shank you!"

I smiled. "Whatever, I just can't believe she was so aggressive. She must've been drunk," I explained.

"No, fuck that. If a bitch says she's going to stab you, you fucking slam her against the wall," Jacob said bitterly.

We continued to talk about the night as we finished up our drinks. We then paid and went outside only to run into Cynthia and the would be stabber. They were walking a half block away from us. My brother and Jacob proceeded to yell out every curse word they could think of. They berated Cynthia's friend relentlessly. I tried to tell them to chill out because the chick actually seemed crazy, but they would have none of it.

That was my first real encounter with a maniac. I'll never truly know if she did have a knife in her purse, but she sure as hell had me convinced. I later did go on a date with Cynthia, which turned into a double date with Miss Crazy and her boy friend. I was unprepared for that night as well.

For the sake of time, and my subconscious erasing that night from my memory, I'll stick to just the craziness. Miss Crazy's boyfriend was her to the extreme. He actually took anti-psychotics and painstakingly explained the stories behind this to me.

I bought him a few rounds of drinks even though he vehemently demanded I stop paying. I was easily convinced. It may have been the result of him telling me that he needed to go outside for a few minutes or else he was going to break a bottle against someone's head. He even pointed one guy out and said, "He looked at me funny."

Things cooled down. I made out with Cynthia every chance I got. I used it as an excuse to escape from Crazy Island. It actually seemed to work. The entire time though, I was keeping an eye on the original Miss Crazy. I had no choice, she could've been sharpening her blade for all I knew.

After these hazardous nights, I decided I'd cool it with the crazy. I handled everything well, but I did come rather close to becoming disemboweled. As a result, my overall guideline is, don't mess around with crazy people. I mean, of course I'll still date them though. Even though doing so is borderline dangerous, so is driving home from work. Who knows if the other drivers are paying attention? Hell, I'd seen a trumpet. Next time it could very well be a violinist. Those bows do look pretty sharp to me. Yet, there are times you just need to take that picture.

Shit Just Got Real