November 25, 2003

Of Psychos and Stalkers

I'm thinking of buying a gun. No, I haven't become a gun nut yet, but given my recent and altogether unacceptable experience with psychos and weirdos, I think buying a gun might be a good idea. At least then, I could wave it around and pretend to be threatening with my 6'2'', 140 lbs frame. Let me explain.

I woke up late today (no class until 12:30 pm) and was hoping not to run into this crazy bum that I always seem to run into on Tuesdays for some reason. I left the building later than usual, but to no avail. There came this wiry, middle-aged bum with a black trench coat, torn shirt, one pantleg rolled up to the knee, and of course the tattered backpack. Nothing remarkable, except for the blinding white-blond hair. Know who I'm talking about? If you live in Berkeley, of course you do. This guy is a menace, constantly harassing any person unlucky enough to cross by his path, and in recent times, a guy who constantly follows me out of Unit 3 on Tuesdays. He approached me as usual today, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries, with him saying Hey son and me giving him a dirty look saying What makes you think you can talk to me, you filthy, worthless, oxygen-wasting piece of shit? Greetings exchanged, he said his usual nonsense, which goes something like this:

Hey, did you hear me say good night to you last night? I did. I was down here. (Cackling) I said, Good night, Priestley. FUCK YOU Priestley! Just like that. Now tell me, did you hear me say that?

He turned around for a second, starting to spaz and wildly gesture, which left me a moment to get the hell out of there. I was pissed as I walked out of Unit 3. I had even altered my schedule, and still I ran into this asshole! On my way to class, I decided to grab lunch at Blondies and after doing so, I was walking down Telegraph when Psycho #2 entered the scene.

The Scene: Corner of Telegraph & Bancroft, Rohit holding a greasy slice of pizza in one hand and a cup of Coke in another, ready to cross the street.

Enter Psycho #2, mumbling to himself:

Psycho #2: Hey, you're [something unintelligible ignored by Rohit]. (excitedly) Excuse me! Excuse me! You're Rohit, right?
Rohit: (turns to face Psycho #2) Yes, who are you?
Psycho #2: You live on Priestley 8, right?
Rohit: Yes. Who are you?
Psycho #2: You're EECS, right?
Rohit: Yes. Who are YOU?
Psycho #2: Do you know what Z-Transforms are?
Rohit: Umm . . . EE 20 right? By the way, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?
Psycho #2: EE 120! I was doing this Z-Transform in the book, and I did it one way, and I got a different answer than the book, so now I don't know which way is right. Do you know what an inverse Z-Transform is?
Rohit: Thanks for sharing asshole. Why are you bothering me? And HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE?
Psycho #2: You live in Priestley 8, right? You're EECS, right? See, I need help on this Z-Transform!
Rohit: Listen you stupid shit: (1) We are WALKING on campus—how do you expect me to help you with a MATH problem? (2) I've never taken EE 120. (3) Both my hands are full with food. (4) I don't KNOW you! (5) Why is my living on the 8th floor of Priestley significant in ANY way to Z-Transforms? GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT, FREAK!
Psycho #2: But, you're EECS and live on Priestley 8!
Rohit: Hey, do me a favor and DIE! I got class now! Peace.

I'm not KIDDING! That is exactly how it went. As I walked away, I was more angry than ever, and slightly scared by how that guy knew me. A lot of people stop me and use my name these days, which I have attributed to CalSO and RA stuff, but this was insane. No freshman would be taking EE120. How the hell did this guy track me down? Anyway, as the numbers would suggest, this was not my last psychotic encounter of the day.

The Scene: Rohit's walking out of English class, around 2 pm, headed to the Post Office.

Enter Psycho #3, a fairly attractive and very obvious freshman.

Psycho #3: Hi, you're Rohit, right? I met you at CalSO.
Rohit: Oh, that's cool. How's your semester gone so far? (That's a traditional question to former counselees so as to not get trapped into trying to remember their names.)
Psycho #3: Oh, it's been going well. I just wanted to tell you that you and your roommate Phil were the coolest counselors in CalSO. You guys were just so funny and smart! Like, you were science majors, but cool science majors—not geeks!
Rohit: Thanks, I'm really flattered. (Suddenly I realized that there was no way she could have known Phil and I were roommates during CalSO—feelings of flattery turns to fear.)
Psycho #3: Yeah, I saw you guys hanging out at the Stanford game. I was just watching you guys, and I wanted to talk to you, but then I didn't.
Rohit: Um . . . .
Psycho #3: You guys are SO cool! And you're a double major too! That's crazy! You must be SO smart! I want to be just like you guys! See, when I came into this school, I was going to do psychology, but now I want to do MCB, because you guys make it seem so fun!
Rohit: Um . . . . (At this point, I was thinking to myself that this girl is seriously crazy!)
Psycho #3: You and Phil hang out a lot. I wish I had good friends like that at this school. I saw you guys eating lunch last week too. In fact, I see you guys around a lot! I always want to say hi, but I end up just watching you guys.
Rohit: Ummmm . . . . (Starting to walk really fast) Hey, listen—I'm headed this way (as I pointed to some random direction).
Psycho #3: Oh, good. So am I.
Rohit: No, I meant THAT way. Sorry to rush off. I'm glad you enjoyed CalSO. Good luck!

As I was walking away, I assessed the situation. The conclusion: anyone who thought I was funny and not a geek had to be crazy. I silently cursed at how I had to walk about two blocks in the wrong direction to avoid the crazy freshman. By this time, I was furious! Who are these freakin' crazy people! Don't they have anything better to do than follow me around? Are their lives so miserable that they have to seek out companionship in a place that they are least likely to receive it? Listen up, you idiots! I don't know you. Just because you somehow know my name or are remotely majoring in something similar to what I am, doesn't mean we are friends. If we've never met, we've never met! Understood? I repeat: WE ARE NOT FRIENDS! We ain't cool like that!

After the bum in the morning, the crazy EECS guy at lunch, and the psycho stalker after class, I was ready to go home and get away from the crazy world around me. As I was walking into Priestley, some guy behind me (obviously not a resident) says Hi Rohit.

Realizing that I had never seen this guy in my life, I felt like flying into a mad rage, grabbing him by the collar, and demanding he tell me how he knew who I was. The wave of madness passed, slowly. I finally mustered out, Hi, how do you know who I am?

He responded with, Your name is on the wall. Great. That doesn't explain how you recognized me, dumbass. I was too tired to deal with this. I walked into the building without another word, and went to my room. Recollecting after a rather exhausting day, I realized that I had had four encounters with psychos and stalkers who appeared to be following me around, and then came the bitter realization: three of the four were guys. Worse, they were tools. Big ones, at that. Guess I've become an icon of the (rather extensive) tool community on campus. Great! Just what I need! It'll do wonders for my social life, no doubt. Gotta love it, right?