It's A Strange Condition

We went on our annual (or monthly, depending on how things are going) trek to Kansas City for steak.

It started Friday, and it was lovely. We went to their beautiful Zoo on a pretty day, we had dinner at a restaurant we used to have here that closed, then we went to their new Power and Light district and caught a concert from some dude I've never heard of.

It was a gorgeous night, they had the heat lamps on, so it was great catching a concert outdoors and drinking cheap beer. My boyfriend never wants to do things like that here, so it's nice to get out sometimes.

It all started falling apart Friday night/Saturday morning when I literally got no sleep. And not because I was up late doing something fun (in a hotel) but because I am the world's worst sleeper. The people next to us had their TV on (not loud, I'm just sensitive), the air conditioner was loud, cars were driving by, etc. When the sun came up I got out of bed and just read until my boyfriend woke up.

We drove 45 minutes outside of KC to an old asylum that now houses a psychiatric museum. It was all about psychiatric treatments pre-modern medicine. So, it was kind of creepy anyway.

There was a group of people there that were all a little off. I don't know specifically what was different about them. One I think was autistic, but that's not really the point.

An older lady from the group started following us around, which was a little weird, but whatever. She said hi to us, asked us how we were. We politely answered, then quickly walked away. She kept following us around.

Finally she came up to me and said "I have angels that talk to me and keep me safe"

I said "Oh, that's nice"

Crazy Lady- "They're telling me you need to get an MRI"

Me- "um... okay...."

Crazy Lady- "Or a mammogram"

Me- "I.. Um.. yeah..." (I just went to the gyno, I'm comfortable with my breast health)

Crazy Lady- "Do you have a mole by your left breast?"

Me- "No..."

Crazy Lady- (VERY loudly and angrily) "Oh, well I guess the angels are wrong then, huh?"

Mike starts pushing me out of the room.

She kept yelling after me about how I need to listen to her or I would die.

I made Mike leave then, so we didn't see most of the museum.

It was the goddamn creepiest thing I had ever heard. I'm glad I don't have a mole near my left breast, or I probably would be at the hospital right now undergoing a battery of preventative tests. I'm pretty sure my insurance wouldn't cover those tests, considering my only reason for needing them was because the lady at the asylum told me I need them.

I was pretty shaken up we left, considering the lack of sleep and the already creepy environment. We stopped to get gas before heading back to KC, and a guy in overalls and a Tweety hat (with the bill turned up) was yelling at everyone who walked past about how Barack Obama wasn't really a Christian and he was, in fact, a free mason. We stopped to listen to him for a few minutes.

The moral of the story, is St. Joseph, Missouri is a crazy ass place with crazy ass people in it. Seriously, stay away.

The rest of the day was more pleasant, we went to the Nelson-Atkins Museum and the Kemper Contemporary Art Museum, followed by dinner at Houston's.

This is where we made a logistical error, as it's not super comfortable to drive four hours after eating a steak and loaded baked potato dinner.

You live, you learn, you repeat it again in six months.

5 comments:

Unknown said...

I'm sure it was just a ruse to see your breasts.

Creepy old lady.

Anonymous said...

I thought many freemasons were Christian?
What is that psychiatric museum called? It sounds interesting.

whall said...

Even a blind nut finds a squirrel sometimes.

Wait, was she blind? And is the mole on your breast shaped like a squirrel?

Maybe she *is* crazy.

Amanda said...

LeSombre- The old ladies are always after them

Hannah- I thought they were too, but I didn't want to argue. It was called Glore Psychiatric Museum

Whall- No, but she did have big glasses that made her look like an owl.

Robin said...

I love crazy people or rather they love me.