There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

It's no secret that August in Edinburgh is Crazy Land. I'm sure Brittney Spears would be absolutely at home here. The streets are PACKED. Not just packed like a busy shopping sale weekend, but packed as in you need to have a torch and whip to beat back the hordes of tourists who like to just stop in the middle of the street to stare at yet another dude dressed in drag.

It takes at least an additional 10 minutes to get from point A to B because of how long it takes to wade through the throngs. And in addition to the billion of tourists visiting the City are the Crazies. These consist of
1) People who think they have talent but really really don't. Be they the most cringing and un-funny 'comedians', people who think others want to see them dressed in chicken costumes miming acts from Post- Modernest French deconstruction theatre, or those who think the public enjoy listening to their renditions of Beatles medleys played on the kazoo.

2) The groupies- the ones who hang out with the 'performers' who think they are the shit because they totally know that guy playing a violin while balancing on stilts.

3) General crazy-ass people who think that since everyone else is ACTING crazy, then they are at liberty to express their inner looney. Most of the time they do this by 'dancing' in ridiculous and downright frightful over expressive movements to the music of other street performers that they meet along their crazy wanderings. Maybe they'll just get a little too involved in others' performances by trying to steal the scene. Or, in my case, they decided to go to the National Library and cause all sorts of a commotion.

Par example, the other day, while minding my own business, we received a complain from one of our more scholarly patrons that an individual was cutting her toenails in the reading room. Now, the reading room consists of 6 24 seater tables, so not at all privet. And, she also left all her clipping right there as well. AND, to add insult to injury, she demanded to see the manager after being told off by him to complain that she didn't see anything wrong with her actions. This caused quite a commotion from another patron who very loudly informed her what an unhygienic prat she was being.

THEN, the same day, while I was manning the security desk, a clearly crazy woman came in. Crazy because her hair looked like Medusa, she was wearing a hot pink bra underneath a see-through black lace lingerie top, and she was eating an apple. In a National Library. She strutted around in front of the desk as she took in the sights while I tried to think of how to politely say she needed to leave. Luckily, before I managed to get a word out, she headed back out towards the doors, but not before turning to me to ask 'Are you happy here? Like, is the vibe really good?' 'Umm, yeah, I quite enjoy it' I manged to stammer out. ' Really? Because I've been fucking miserable for months!' and with that, she left.

THEN, during the same week, we had a guy dressed in a skin tight biker (think Lance Armstrong) suit come in with a megaphone. Which he spoke through, as though riling the troops to give hugs not drugs and peace a chance. He claimed he wanted to come into the Library, but was deaf and needed the security woman to answer through the megaphone. She refused, but even though be claimed to be deaf, it didn't stop HIM from using the megaphone and making US all deaf by default. Finally, after the security lady conveyed that he needed to get a readers ticket before being allowed access, he left, announcing to the library that we 'could now go about [our] business.' I would bet £10 he was just another crazy trying to get away with using a megaphone in a library. Wanker.

Luckily, the Fringe festival is now OVER, the streets have cleared, the billion fliers decorating every flat surface have been binned, and there are no longer people in gimp suits walking nonchalantly around. I have about a week rest before the students descend. Giggidy.