Life on the Moon.

Crazy times in CrazyVille.

My cousin/brother (I know that combination probably gives off a sort of “incest” vibe. But it’s the only word I can think of that really explains us. Because we’re technically cousins. But we were raised like brother & sister, as in: In the same house. Our bedrooms were right next to one another. Had the same authoritative figure whooping our asses, etc.) Nic and I went and visited my sister today.

We had to drive to Sedro Woolley. According to MapQuest, the distance from my house to Sedro Woolley is 35.51 miles. The EDT (that’s ‘Estimated Driving Time’, by the way) is about 44 minutes. I always knew that Sedro Woolley was a small town. I’m used to driving long distances. So, 44 minutes might seem like a long time to drive for you, but there’s anywhere from 5 to 25 acres between property lines here. It takes me a good 20 minutes to drive to the nearest WalMart. Thus driving 44 minutes away was just barely double my normal “driving to the store” time.

However! Like I said: I had heard and known that Sedro Woolley was small. But I didn’t know they meant ‘small population’ and not ‘small land size’. According to MapQuest, the distance from my house to the Treatment Center IN Sedro Woolley: 43.72 miles. The EDT is 61 minutes.

61 minutes: Just a little out of my normal “driving to the store” time.

Oh, and in case you missed the little hint up there of where exactly I was driving to: I wrote “Treatment Center”. I forgot to mention that it’s a PSYCHIATRIC Treatment Center.

After getting off the freeway and passing the next 9 miles of 4 stores, one 1950’s-esque gas station and 8.6 miles of roads that would turn rapid 90 degree turns randomly, passing nothing but farm land, we finally come to possibly the largest (and most terrifying) establishment I’ve ever seen. It literally looked like something out of a movie. I’m sorry: A HORROR movie. It’s pitch black. Giant trees surrounding the entire place. Metal GATES?! Half of the MASSIVE buildings were condemned. They literally looked like 1800’s Mental Wards. With half of the stained glass broken out. I was fucking bat-shit-terrified. A deer ran in front of my fucking car as I was passing one of the buildings and there’s a good possibility that I actually blacked out for a second.

Finally, after listening to my Garmin lead me down the most complicated, twisted, Serial-Killer-Central road, we find a building that was (thankfully) built somewhere in the 80’s. Which is where my sister was.

And that’s where her….. roommates were, too.

I was well aware that Brittney was not the only person in this facility. However, I did think that there was going to be some sort of visiting area. Set up at least a few chairs (maybe a table, if it’s not too much to ask).

But instead, this place has you walk in to an office. You sit down at one of those plastic tables that you can often find in employee breakrooms. There’s a big camera pointed at your face, fasted into the wall above a big, white, metal door with a sign that says: “ESCAPE RISK. ENTER WITH CAUTION.”

Comforting.

This ENORMOUS man who, for some Godforsaken reason, dyed his buzz cut hair pumpkin orange, comes in and asks who we are. We say our names. He asks who we’re here for. We tell him. He walks over to the big white door. (No caution in his movements, I could tell.) And literally screams this into the room:

“Janie? Someone is here for Brittney. Their what? Their names? Oh, I don’t remember… Can’t you just come out here and figure it out? I still REALLY have to go to the bathroom and I can barely make it there as it is.”

No, like, I’m serious. This giant (and I mean, like, EASILY 450 pounds) pumpkin-headed man is screaming about how he can’t make it to the bathroom. Right in front of us. You want to know what else was right in front of us?

The bathroom.

Aweeeeeeeeeeesome.

And that’s when ManBoobs walks in. This man was, at least, 6’2”. Shaped EXACTLY like a pear. Wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt. And two very obvious man boobs. And when I say “man boobs”. I mean, “it looks like there’s a woman’s breasts on that man.” So, ManBoobs walks over.

ManBoobs: What are your names?
Me: Trina Moon. Nic VanDuisen.
ManBoobs: You’re here for….?
Me: Brittney Crossen…?
ManBoobs: Hmm. Well, seems you’re not on her Visitor list, and she’s on MR (More Restricted. Less privileges. More security, etc.)… Hmm.
Me: We’re not?
ManBoobs: No, not either of you.
Me: Can we still see her?
ManBoobs: Yeah, I mean, I can just put you on there. It’s really no big deal.
Me: Do you want to see our ID’s or anything?
ManBoobs: Whaa? Oh, uh, nope.

Nic: [whispers to me] Um, are we sure these are the workers and not the crazy people?

We went inside and the divider protecting us from these crazy people that you needed to be forewarned about in the “ESCAPE RISK!” sign is big, black, thick….. tape. On the floor.

….Comforting.

We see Brittney standing there. Behind an old woman who’s standing completely still and speaking sentences to no one. There is another large bald man in the corner praying loudly to Jesus and then there is this really tall, lanky man. He’s about in his 60’s. He’s wearing highwater jeans and a red flannel. He’s bald but has an beard that could put my husband’s to shame. (And my husband can grow a beard like Jesus.) And he paces back and forth, up and down the long hall way of doors to shared bedrooms. (My sister’s bunkmate is the old woman who talks to no one). And then into the lounge area and back down the hall way.

Oh, sorry. Did I forget to mention that he’s AIR HUMPING the entire time he’s walking?

Because he is.

We drop off the clothes, beanie, and cigarettes that she asked us to get her. (The office gave me back the scarf because for some reason I thought that a long object to wrap around a human’s neck would be a good thing to bring to a Mental Ward.) And my sister takes Nic & I to a line of chairs directly in the middle of all the patients “area”. There is no visiting area. There’s no table with checkers and half a deck of Uno cards. There is the crazies and their area. And you are intruding in on their area.

COMFORTING.

So, we’re sitting there talking, examining all of the pictures all over the walls that all the patients had drawn. And all of the sudden Humpy walks by. Then he walks by again. Still humping. But then he decides that he is going to stand directly in front of Nic, Brittney and I…. AND START AIR HUMPING WHILE STARING DIRECTLY AT US.

I couldn’t even make up this shit if I wanted to.

Brittney is staring at Nic and I like this is a totally normal occurrence and there’s nothing wrong with him. Nic and I, on the other hand, are staring directly into the pupils of Brittney’s eyes, trying to get the image of Humpy showin’ off his signature move out of our peripheral vision.

He gives one last good thrust and Nic & I lost it. We couldn’t fucking help it! The bald, bearded man in highwater jeans is violently air humping 3 feet in front of us. And, of course, we’re in a large, basically empty room. So, it’s echoing. Which causes us to laugh harder.

We finally calm ourselves down and bullshit with Brittney for a good 45 minutes. Then “Inside Edition” comes on and the same fat man who’s been screaming “Praise the Lord!” randomly the entire time we were there, decides to comment on a news story about how slutty teenagers dress up now-a-day for Halloween” with an:

“You can come Trick-Or-Treat at my house any day. Mmmm. Come here, little girl. I have some candy.”

Mmm. Comforting.

“Uh, Nic? I think it’s time to go home.”