Category Archives: Storytime

Why I Left NYC

February 3, 2016 Normal Bob

I’m realizing I never fully explained why I left NYC. And it’s 7:30 Wednesday morning and I just woke up from a nightmare that reminded me of exactly that.

I dreamt I was back in Brooklyn and had just been told by my landlord we had to leave our apartment. The television was on, I had food cooking on the stove, and I even had my plans for the day to go to Union and work on art projects. The dream was so vividly real. Then suddenly the landlord was at the door.

He came to explain it was too nice of an apartment for us and he’d been offered more money for it. He told me we could move into the studio apartment that was there adjacent to ours, but we had to be out of this one in 2 weeks. So I began moving all the furniture trying to make it fit into a place 1/4 the size.

The dream concluded with me standing in between the two separate living quarters in a cold sweat, realizing there was no way this could work, and I had to tell my roommates. I was asking myself “how did I get myself into this situation again?” I was looking out the window at the city skyline contemplating going out to wander the streets, but instead I had this nightmare to deal with, again!

When I woke up, which was about 20 minutes ago now, I was in that cold sweat and thanking Christ Jesus it was all just a dream. I thought maybe I could go back to sleep, but no dice. I was haunted. So I might as well write what happened.

My last 8 years in NYC (2007 – 2015) is the window of time it took place in. It was in ’07 that I was leaving a loft apartment I had with roommates in Williamsburg and moving to this nice 3 bedroom apartment in Bushwick. I found two new roommates, and over the course of 7 years I made that place a home. It was the first place I’d ever lived where I actually painted the walls, hung cookware above the stove, bought sofas & furniture and really settled in to stay. Business was good, I liked who I was living with, and I had an amazing view out my bedroom window. We were on the 3rd floor of this building, and my window pointed east, looking out over the roofs and steeples of Brooklyn. I loved this place.

Then in October of 2013, just around Halloween, we were told the building was being sold and we all had to be out by New Years Day. It completely broke my heart. What hurt even more is it wasn’t a typical landlord/tenant relationship. He was a friend who’d hired me to do freelance work for him in the past. He owned this building, which is how & why I moved in in the first place, and now it made being treated like a number even more spirit-breaking.

In NYC you don’t start looking for a place a month or two in advance to weigh your options, then pack, arrange movers, and simply have the normal difficulties that come with moving. No. In New York moving happens in a panic, and you don’t find the place you’re going to live until a week before your move out date. And when you’re packing you’re forced to pare down to the bare minimum because it’s thousands of dollars to hire movers. Flat out, we were told to cancel Christmas and that’s what we had to do. Looking back I now realize this was the beginning of the end for me.

The three of us ended up finding a new place together, deeper into Brooklyn, slightly smaller, same cost. Not long after we moved in we realized we had a terrible landlord. It was a building owned by a place called “Management Solutions” and they had letterhead with a different name on it “Rental Solutions NY,” and their phone number wasn’t included on documents, and other shady warning signs. Being rude to their tenants was a normality, and when we’d complain about anything they had no problem responding “Hey, I forgot. When is your lease up?”

The place started accumulating, at first roaches, then mice, and my last week there we had maggots crawling up through the cracks in the kitchen floor. I discovered later we were literally weeks away from bedbugs when we finally left. We found out talking to a cleanup crew in our building that the neighbors below us had them in the ceilings. In this new environment we started to each get depressed and on each others nerves.

We’d signed a year and a half lease New Years Day 2014. So when June of 2015 rolled around and we were asked to sign another lease, reality hit. My trips to visit my folks in Michigan had increased over the last year and a half to escape these surroundings. I used to come visit 2 or 3 times a year for a week at a time. Then it started to become 4 or 5 times a year for a couple weeks each visit. In 2015 I was visiting every other month with plans to stay for two months this winter. That’s when I realized I no longer loved living in New York and it was time to leave.

I made very good use of that city in the 13 years I was there. I was productive, adventurous, made a name for myself, and accomplished things I never could’ve if I hadn’t. I met some wonderful people and made friends I was lucky to even meet. But fact is I have nightmares about it now. And when I wake up not there I am relieved.

I’m very content here helping out my folks, and building up my Jesus Dressup fridge magnet empire again and prove it can indeed be a thriving business. I’m quite confident I can do that and have the freedom to pick where next I should go when I’m ready. I’m not sure how long it will take me to get over my NYC-PTSD and feel like visiting again, but I know at the moment it’s not in the books.

Amazing Strangers, Anthropology, Blog, Storytime, Union Square

A Free Spirit Bullies my Friend

April 25, 2014 Normal Bob

So yesterday I’m at Union, and I’m sitting with this kid who’s a fan of the site, and he’s cool, and we’re talking. At one point I leave to go to the bathroom, and when I return there’s a couple sitting where I had been sitting. I don’t mind at all and just sit off to the left of them so they’re now sitting in-between me and my friend. There’s a comfortable space between us all.

Then, this guy shows up who’s their friend. He comes right up and sits next to them, which is directly on the step behind my friend. He puts a foot on either side of where my friend’s butt is on the step, leans around and says “You don’t mind if I sit here, do ya? You’re gonna look like my girlfriend! Hahaha!” And the three friends laugh. My friend doesn’t move from his seat, and I see the guy behind him shrugging his shoulders and smirking like, “Haha, I guess he’s not gonna move!”

It was clear that what he was hoping for was to be able to forgo any sort of respectful, “Hey. Would you mind moving over a little so I can sit here?” and instead just hoped his obnoxiousness would make the kid leave and sit somewhere else. When he sat down he didn’t know I was the kid’s friend, so he figured who gives a shit?

A minute goes by and I’m stewing over it all, and I say to my friend, “Hey, can I take your picture? This’ll be good. Trust me, you’re gonna want to remember this moment.”
So I get up and snap a picture.

Bully sitting emo kid — “Free Spirit” attempts to make my friend leave by sitting directly behind him like this.

I’d made myself known, and some more awkwardness is introduced to the situation. The three of them all get quiet and just stare down at their phones, flicking their fingers up and down on their screens. Total quiet. Of course I can’t keep my mouth shut now that I’ve already opened it and say, “Ya like this? It’s the new kind of tourist. They come all the way to New York City just so they can sit with their friends and stare at their phones the whole time.”
My friend is hearing me, but isn’t really saying much. I keep on going because I can’t seem to focus on anything else. “That’s a great move you did to get your seat.” I compliment. And he responds with something along the line of, “You like it? Haha, It’s good, right?”
“Yeah. You need a place to sit, so you just straddle up behind someone, put a foot on either side of ’em and tell them they’re going to look like your girlfriend if they stay there. That’s a real asshole move!”

They’re all half nervously laughing, and half staring into their phones hoping it’ll all just go away. Of course I can’t let it go since the sitting arrangement hasn’t altered in the tiniest way. I say to my friend (but actually to the whole group), “That’s what happens. People come to the city and think this is how we all treat each other here, so they act rude because they think that’s just what we do.”

Now the guy says something like, “How do you know what I’m thinking? You’re the only one who seems to have a problem with this. Just let it go, buddy. Just stop talking about it. ” and “Listen. If he had been a girl I would have been nice and asked if it was okay” To which I shouted, “Yeah, but he’s just a guy so fuck him.”
And this shit he just said proves my whole fucking point. He did it to be alpha. Being polite to my friend, in his mind, is a form of submission to another guy. So to show he’s superior, this is how he approached the situation where there isn’t enough room to sit. It’s stupid fucking alpha male bullshit. And I’m seeing myself as a teen being just like this kid and having this stuff done to me all the time. This guy’s there with his friends, the kid is alone and a little smaller, so this is how you’re supposed to treat him.

Then this hippy guy who’s been playing the goddamned flute on the other side of us turns to me and says, “Hey buddy. Just let it go. You’re the one who keeps talking about it. Quit bringing up the past. What’s done is done. Let it go. Just drop it.”

See now, I’m baffled that everyone is treating me like I’m the one who’s the problem, and not this guy.
“How would you like it if I sat right behind you, put a foot on either side of where you’re sitting, right here and here” I point to the space on his sides, “and then leans in and says in your ear – If you stay here you’re going to look like my girlfriend?! and then laugh about it?”

At some point in here Shaggy arrives and asks what’s going on. I describe it all to him. He laughs about it, then tries to get me to leave the situation with him because he sees I’m fuming. I totally refuse to leave and Shaggy walks away, the whole time trying to get me to go with him. Very stubbornly I don’t budge and tell him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. There’s more that needs to be said.” Mind you, still nothing has changed in the seating arrangement this whole time. My friend is still sitting in-between this stranger’s feet.

This hippy guy says something like “I wouldn’t mind. Maybe where these people are from that’s a normal thing to do, to be close to each other” or some shit like that. And the guy sitting behind my friend is saying “Buddy. Just drop it. I didn’t do it to be an asshole. I’m a nice guy. I’m a free-spirit…” [Yadda yadda]. I swear to you he said “I’m a free spirit” to which I responded, “Yeah, you’re all free spirits who just take and take and take.”

“Buddy. Just drop it. I didn’t do it to be an asshole. I’m a nice guy. I’m a free-spirit…” [Yadda yadda]. I swear to you he said “I’m a free spirit” to which I responded, “Yeah, you’re all free spirits who just take and take and take.”

At this point his buddy chimes in “Listen. He is my friend and he’s a nice guy with a sense of humor. You’re just misunderstanding…”
And I keep going with my “Yeah, he’s a really great guy who forgoes any sort of courtesy wherever he goes and just sits where he wants. And if someone’s there? Fuck him because he’s a free spirit!”

Let me make it perfectly clear here again that still no change has been made to where this guy’s sitting. His feet are still my friend’s armrests.
Finally there’s some quiet. I shut the hell up for a minute. They all just sit there. The guy at some point quietly moves his feet up so his knees are up against his chest, still quite stubbornly not moving from where he’s sitting – so as not to admit defeat I’m guessing.

I say to my friend, “Would you like to sit over here where there’s space so you don’t have to look like this guy’s girlfriend?” To which they all gasp, including the hippy guy, that I can’t just let it go. My friend does indeed get up and move and sit in the space next to me, and there’s more awkward silence.

Finally after a minute more the guy says to my buddy, “Look. I’m sorry if I disrespected you. I didn’t mean to. Now can we all just mind our own business now and drop it?” And my friend says “It’s cool. No problem.” And I say, “Thank you” and the guy says to me, “I’m not saying this because of you. I’m saying this to your friend!” I tell him, “That’s fine with me. It’s about time. I’m just trying to help you be better people. Be polite. And I appreciate that you apologized.”
They’re all – “Okay. It’s done. You’re cool. We’re cool.” And I wash my hands of the situation and move over to where I’m not facing it any longer.

Don’t get the idea from any of my self-debasing as I tell the story that I regret at all saying anything I said, or standing up for my friend.
They still stuck around and sat there for a while, until one after another, people I know at the Square were coming up just to say hi, or hang out, and they realized I knew a lot of people here. So after about 15 minutes of this they finally got up and left. We all shook hands, and my friend thanked me for sticking up for him. I asked him if he was at all bothered by the guy’s move, and he had a sense of humor about it. He even said he thought about lying back into his lap to pretend he was the guy’s girlfriend.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was in the fucking Twilight Zone being the only person there who saw the guy’s move as being as rude and obnoxious as it was. Hell, I’m still fuming about it the next morning.

See more on this story’s page of Amazing Strangers.

Amazing Strangers, Anthropology, Atheism, Blog, Fundies, God Is Fake flyer, Storytime

I Make Little Girls Cry

July 29, 2006 Normal Bob

Current mood: Victorious!

I was in rare form last night. I took on a whole team of Christians and sent them packing. It was a sight to behold to say the least.

man with Crucified Satan tattoos — Normal Bob Smith’s Crucified Satan tattoos

When I arrived at Union they had their booths already set up on both sides of the park. I sat down directly in front of the one on the west side of Union Sq South, and immediately one of them in their yellow smocks came up to me and asked if I would like one of their pamphlets. I replied “No thank you. I don’t believe in God.”

They love that answer a lot.

And that began what was probably a 40 minute discussion with this girl. Then her coworker friend came over, both of these girls were from Alabama and probably 19 years old or so. And her friend, let’s call her Amy (because I forgot her name), was total cult member status. Trained with the best of ’em to repeat phrases like “God made it that way,” and “I don’t believe in fantasies. I believe in Jesus!” She even, at one point said, during a discussion of a good father going to hell, and a murderer going to heaven, that this was a beautiful thing!

Anyhow, this was all as usual. No new exciting arguments from their side.

“He’s not gonna change his mind. Did you see the tattoos on his arms? You’re both wasting your time trying to convince each other.”

One interesting thing that happened was when this blond lady sitting to my right spoke up and said, sort of agitated “Why are you guys bothering to discuss this? Neither of you are going to change your minds? Why don’t you just believe what you want to believe, and you girls believe what you want, and be done with it?” All this said in a tone that you could tell she was irritated having to listen to what we were saying.

The girls, of course responded with, “Because I want him to go to heaven.”

The lady replied, “He’s not gonna change his mind. Did you see the tattoos on his arms? You’re both wasting your time trying to convince each other.”

I said to her, “I’m arguing this because that’s what we should be doing. Discussing differences of opinions is what’s going to save the human race. Not shutting up. Not war, or violence, or flying planes into buildings, but discussion. That’s what we all should be doing. Not believing whatever we want to believe, and remaining ignorant of each other. That gets us nowhere.”

That lady hung around and listened after I said that, and the girls were stunned. She even jumped in later and asked why God didn’t make it so good deeds get us into heaven. I made her care.

Their cult-stare showed extra bright when I presented them with the “Heaven is Hell” question. They couldn’t respond with anything other than “That’s why we’re out here tell people about Jesus.”

But they could never look the question dead in the eyes and respond. No matter how I spelled it out.

“You’re going to heaven, right?”

“Yes!” They gleefully responded.

“And there are people in hell, right?”

“Yes.” Less gleeful.

“How can you enjoy any kind of paradise while your brothers and sisters from earth suffer and burn forever?”

They couldn’t even hear the question. They were stunned. I stated, “All I want you to say to me is ‘Yes, I can enjoy a heaven while others burn forever in hell’ But you can not say it. Why?”

Of course they couldn’t respond.

Then when they said they wanted to pray for me, I said, “Please don’t. When people pray for me, it’s like wishing me to be in that horrible place you call heaven. Praying is you wanting to separate loved ones from each other. I don’t know how anyone could ever want that.” They were paralyzed. Utterly speechless. And I was elated! I’d just discovered what to say when someone wants to pray for me! Something that paints their prayer in an unmerciful, vomit-colored light!

And when these girls couldn’t answer my questions anymore, I said “I wish you could get someone over there to answer my questions for me.” And boy, they jumped on that invite to get away from me. They ran back to their booth and told on me.

They sent over this big, giant, fat, black man who stood above me (mind you I remained seated on the steps of Union this entire time), and said, “Hello brother. My friends told me that you needed some questions answered?”

And his response to the “Heaven is Hell question” was? “When we get to Heaven we no longer worry about those things. God said that in Heaven we will be given a new body and a new mind. We will not have the same feelings we had here on Earth.”

“We won’t remember our loved ones?” I asked.

“No, I’m not saying that. We’ll remember them…”

“We just won’t love them anymore? Like we did here on earth?”

“No. I didn’t say that. We just have to move on. We have to get on with our lives.” He was getting angry with me.

“Heaven sounds horrible. I don’t know why anyone would want to go there. We seriously forget about all of them?”

“No, now if you refuse to believe what I’m telling you then you won’t go there!”

“I don’t want to go there! Being on a throne in heaven while my brother burns in hell forever? It sounds like a nightmare!”

He too wanted to pray for me, and I said that I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to go to this horrible place he called heaven. After a while of this he got quite frustrated with me and stomped away saying things like “I guess you won’t get to go to heaven then!”

“Why would I want to go there?” I replied. “I love people.” I was honestly saddened by their heartlessness with the matter. And let me say, I was not speaking to them sarcastically, but as openly and curious as possible while he was totally trying to intimidate me, standing over me as I sat on my ass on those steps. I rather enjoyed it. I had no fear at all. And when someone is doing their biggest display to intimidate someone 5 feet below them, and it still doesn’t work, it really makes them look really bad.

So I was left alone for a little while longer. Then this guy from Faith4Living.com came up to me (very much the kindly Ned Flanders type), and greeted me, “Hello. A friend of mine, Amy, was crying over there, and she told me she wanted me to come over here and pray for you.”

We shook hands, and I said, “I’m sorry to hear she’s so upset. I just told her that I didn’t want her to pray for me because to me that’s basically wishing me to go to heaven. And the heaven she told me about sounded like a horrible place to be.”

This all took the usual turns that I’ve told before, but this guy, who seemed so calm in greeting, got the most agitated! His face was turning red, veins popping out all over his neck and face, and he was shaking saying some of the most outrageous things! Like, when presented with questions about Noah’s Ark, said that every species of animal lived there on that continent at the time. They didn’t have to travel across oceans to get to the ark.

“Kangaroos were in Iraq?!?!” I retorted.

And he tried to explain how some species of every animal was there on that side of the world, yet he also argued angrily against evolution with me too! It was crazy crazy.

He got so frustrated with me that he finally had to end it. I know he’s going to email me. We exchanged emails addresses, and he was dying to show me some intro to some book where the guy who invented evolution said that there was no proof for it.

So I made Amy cry. And as they were leaving, Amy, looking sad but not crying, waved to me. I looked the same waving back to her.