Bananahammocks.

All-Request Week continues.  This one goes out to Em in The Middle of Nowhere, Iowa.

 

Most of my closest friendships are maintained long-distance these days.  And while I think I've gotten pretty good at making that work - most of the years I lived in Indiana I really never lived alone, because I regularly came home at night to dish and watch TV with Em via IM - it sucks when one of your best friends is going through something really shitty and you can't say, "I'll be right over with ice cream/a bottle of wine/tampons/a shotgun."  About the best I can offer in these situations is a sympathetic set of eyes while said friend vents whatever is bothering them, until they say, "say something that will make me happy."

 

BANANAHAMMOCK!!!!

 

Works.  Every.  Time.

 

No, seriously.  Sometimes you need them in bulk:

 

BANANAHAMMOCKBANANAHAMMOCKBANANAHAMMOCK!!!!

 

If you can read that - honestly look at the letters and read it all the way through - without smiling, then I really don't think we can be friends.  Because in all honesty, in those moments where nothing can really be said, and the person you're talking to just wants to change the subject, it's the only thing I can think of to break the mood.  Or, at least, the only thing that is guaranteed to work.  I'm not really sure why it does - it can't really be unexpected, because I ALWAYS do it.  Except the friend in question is sometimes so deep in the throes of funk that they have temporarily forgotten that that's what I'm going to say.  But even if they haven't, even if they KNOW that's what's coming, there's something about the way that word looks plastered across your IM screen that's happy-making.  It's just such an unabashedly silly and ridiculous word. 

But there are other silly, ridiculous words out there.  None of which work as well as BANANAHAMMOCK.  Trust me.  I've tried them.

 

A brief encounter I had last night convinced me that I need to start putting this little trick into more general use.  As a single girl in the city, you find yourself spending a great deal of time alone - in restaurants, at movies, on transit.  I've learned to enjoy this time alone...you notice things you wouldn't if you were chattering with a friend next to you.  I know for a fact that one of the things that some of you kids greatly enjoy about this blog is my ability to notice the ridiculous in the most mundane of places and then blow it way out of proportion for (hopefully) comedic effect.  In fact, that should be the title of this blog: Ridiculous Things Made Downright Ludicrous as a Result of My Seriously Overthinking Them Because I Got Bored on the Subway.  But that's too unwieldy, and doesn't even make a clever acronym (unless someone would care to tell me how in the hell one pronounces RTMDLAAROMSOTBIGBOTS...okay, now that I see that spelled out, it's almost as good as BANANAHAMMOCK!!!...almost.  But mental note: MUST start using BIGBOTS...I do an awful lot because I got bored on the subway...).  Unfortunately, an awful lot of things happen to a single girl when she's lost in her thoughts while leaving a movie theater...lingering over a glass of wine...riding home at night...that aren't so amusing.  Strangers coming up to talk to you can quickly cross the line from silly...to annoying...to dude you are starting to freak me the fuck out...to gee, officer, he always kind of kept to himself but he seemed harmless. 

But here's the thing - even when you're getting freaked out, chances are you're overreacting.  If someone were sitting next to you, you'd have one hell of a giggle after this guy walked away, and you wouldn't feel threatened at all.  So last night, BIGBOTS, I started to think that I need to do something to bring myself down when I start to get a little too worried - if for no other reason than if you already have the creeps, they will only compound for the rest of the day/night and really, who has that kind of time to waste on unnecessary anxiety?  So naturally, I thought to myself, "what do I do to snap OTHER people out of their anxiety/rage/depression?"

 

BANANAHAMMOCK!BANANAHAMMOCK!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!

 

Case(s) in point:

1) So last night, I'm leaving the movie theater after a rather entertaining documentary on Jay McCarroll, and an even more entertaining Q&A with the directors and Mr. McCarroll himself.  I'm walking to the subway station, thinking about the movie, and how I would have loved to ask a question or introduce myself to Jay but didn't because I just wasn't feeling fashionable enough to talk to a fashion designer, and how I really REALLY want that colorblock trenchcoat he showed in his spring/summer collection...

And a man walks up from behind me and says, "You are vvvvvvvery...elegant."  At least, I THINK that's what he said.  Between the slurred speech and the mysteriously ambiguous European accent, he might have ACTUALLY said, "You are vvvvvalley...elephant."  Or possibly, "Yew, our valued elfin plant."  Hey, you never know, maybe this guy was seriously into bonsai.  At the time I met him, however, he was most definitely seriously into vodka.  And/or seriously opposed to The Man trying to enslave our walking paths in the shackles of rectilinear conformity.  This guy was weaving across the sidewalk in a manner that would've made figure skaters dizzy.  But hey, it was kind of a nice compliment, if...weird.

"Um...thank you."

"May I...introduuussse myssssssself to you?"

Um...not really sure what to do with that one.  I've never had someone ask if they could introduce themselves.  And, as much as I would like to see this conversation die an early yet somehow extremely timely death, it seems unbelievably bitchy to just say "No."

"Um...no, thank you?"

"Ah...you are...no longer sssssssssssthingle?"

Ooh, yeah, what he said.

"Um...NO.  NO, I am NOT."  <insert noncommital, but could be read as regretful shrug here>

"Well, you know what I have to sssssssthay about that?  Ssssthssome guyth have all.........the luck.  BASSSSSSTHARDTHS."

 

And he just sort of continues walking into Bathurst station.  And onto the platform I'm headed toward.

Shit.

I hang back enough to try to put enough distance between us on the platform that I won't end up on the same car with Cassssssssssanova, and bury my nose in my book so as to avoid eye contact.  The guy stumbles down the platform in my direction - this is where, even though there are plenty of people around, and this guy can barely keep upright, let alone harm me, I start to get more creeped out than amused.  I mean, dammit, I am small.  And not very strong.  And all alone.  And don't really know how good my self-defense skills are, since I have never had to use them.

BANANAHAMMOCK!

Just like when Wayne and Garth would go into a dream sequence on Wayne's World.  I'd do the hand motions and the doodleydo noises if it wouldn't turn me into exactly the sort of person that creeps me out.  But the bananahammock gave me enough of an inward giggle to shrug off the not-so-fresh feeling that this guy had left me with.

 

2) There's a bus that I now avoid at all costs in the morning.  I would sometimes find myself on it when I was running really late in the morning - it's the last one before the buses start coming further apart as rush hour dies down, so even if I'm running super-late, I will scramble to catch it.  One morning, I got on it, sat towards the back, and realized shortly that the guy in the back corner seat was talking.  Thought process:

Must be with a friend.

Nope, the people sitting near him are most definitely not a part of the conversation.

Must be on a phone or bluetooth headset.  I will never get used to seeing people talking on bluetooth headsets in public.

Negative.  No electronic gadgetry in sight.

Yep, dude is totally just talking to himself.

Meh, no biggie.  At least he seems to be interested in what he has to say.

 

A couple of weeks later, I'm back on that bus.  Dude is on it.  When he gets off the bus at Lawrence, I could swear I heard him mutter something like, "I love you" as he passes me.  Nah, probably just imagining things.  Probably just said "I love shoes" or "Aye, rough Jews!"

 

A couple of weeks later, same bus.  This time I'm sitting about halfway back, in a single seat on the side.  Didn't even notice anyone else on the bus, nose buried in book for the ride.  We pull up to the Lawrence stop, and I distinctly hear someone say, in a low voice and directly behind me, "I love you."  Look up to see Dude as he dashes for the back door of the bus.  Nah, I couldn't possibly have heard what I think I just heard.  But proceed to spend the rest of the morning more than a little creeped out.

Everyone wants to hear "I love you."  Just maybe not from a creepy, possibly schizophrenic dude who runs away as soon as he says it.

 

...A couple of weeks later...yep.  Once again, not really paying attention to who's on the bus when I get on, and sit in one of the double seats in the middle of the bus because I'm carrying lots of crap that day.  Open book, insert nose.  Shortly before the Lawrence stop:

Hmm.  Someone's standing in the aisle just ahead of me.  Maybe I should move my stuff so someone can sit next to me.  Wait...loads of empty seats on this bus...

As the bus rolls up to the stop, Dude leans over, says, "I'll see you later" in the same raspy, throaty whisper, then trots up to the front door and hops off the bus.  He stands on the sidewalk while the bus pulls away, and knocks on my window as I ride by.

Apparently, in Dude's world, we are an item.  And we have a date tonight.  Or possibly, three months from now.  Apparently.

 

BANANAHAMMOCK!BANANAHAMMOCK!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!!

It's not quite Dorothy clicking her ruby-slippered heels together three times, but it'll have to do.

 

I figure this is also a great way to make a mental note of a particularly ridiculous situation.  When one sees a black man...on roller skates...carrying a wok...BANANAHAMWOK!

 

This should come in quite handy.  I happen to think that more deliciously ridiculous things happen to me than to most people.  Partly because I happen to notice them more as they happen, and partly because I am, when it comes down to it, an inherently ridiculous person.  Birds of a feather reaping what they sow and whatnot.  So I continue this list with some of my sillier Bananahammocks, as they shall henceforth be called:

 

3) Several years ago, I was in Amsterdam with my then-boyfriend.  We were sitting on a bench on the edge of a canal...sunset was looming, the little lights on the bridges were reflecting on the water...lovely romantic evening.  A guy in a captain's hat comes off of one of the houseboats...sort of a Dutch Popeye.  He ambles up the sidewalk, muttering under his breath.  All I can make out is something like, "<grumblegrumble> F-ing C--T! <grumblegrumblegrumble>..."  As Popeye approaches us, he proceeds to tell us a little about himself.  Namely, that he is Satan.  Then he looks us over, nods approvingly, and says, "This...this, I like this" as he points at us before continuing along his way, cursing whatever woman it was that done him wrong.

It's a wonder that relationship didn't work out, what with the blessing de Beelzebub, and all.

BEELZEHAMMOCK!

 

4) meh...NANAHAMMOCK!

 

5) When I was a wee undergrad, I once serenaded a men's a cappella group.  I sang "Don't Use Your Penis For a Brain" while one friend sang backup in the hallway and another danced around the room, handing the guys flowers.  Shortly thereafter, one of the guys made a comment that I "seem like the sort of person who would keep a penis in the freezer."  Some of them still vaguely remember me as the Penis Chick.  Can you believe some clever guy hasn't snatched this one up, folks?  Luckily, I'm guessing we lost all of the guys way back at "tampons," so they haven't seen this.

FROZENBANANAHAMMOCK!

 

6) I once sort of broke into Ross-Ade Stadium.

To make a mix CD.

That included the Fat Boys/Beach Boys duet of "Wipeout."

BANANAHAMMOCK: IMPOSSIBLE!

 

7) I once played not one...not two...but three, yes, THREE VARIETIES OF POULTRY on stage. 

bawkbawkBAWNANAHAMMAWK!

 

8) On a "Dark Side of Charleston" tour, our gravelly-voiced tour guide decided I was the perfect person to string up in restraints in the abandoned jail.

BANANA-S&M-MOCK!

 

9) TOTALLY been hit on by a pirate.  Twice.

BANARRRRNAHARRRRMOCK!

 

At this stage, I believe I've made my point.  My sincere apologies who thought, upon seeing the title of this post, that they would get to read my delightful observations on Speedos.  I can't WAIT to see the Google hits I'll get off of this bad boy.

 

For what it's worth, I don't care how good you look in a Speedo, as far as I'm concerned, you look better in trunks.