Pirates of the Gulf of Mexico?

I saw the costume man again today. He was dressed as a pirate this time.

Let the Madness Begin

As most of you know, I made the move from my beloved College Station to Galveston to start PA school at UTMB. Let me just say, this town is crazy.

Seriously.

My first three months here have been filled with bizarre happenings, which I've decided to share.

I feel the need to go back and start over, so that everyone can experience the madness that I live in. It started the day I moved in, and surely has not stopped. So here it is, day 1 - moving day.

May 13, 2006
I'm renting the upstairs of a house built in 1876. That's right, 1876. It's been converted into two apartments: upstairs and downstairs, and there is a carriage house in the back. Thus, the house is divded into 3 addresses: up, down, and rear. The house is on a one-way street named Post Office, also known at Avenue E. Every street in Galveston has two names, which I was not aware of until I tried to set up my utilities.

My phone conversation with the gas company went something like this:
Me: I need to switch the gas bill into my name
Phone Lady: What is your addres?
Me: Post Office St. Up, Galveston, TX
Phone Lady: Post Office? Is that a PO box?
Me: No, it's a street in Galveston.
Phone Lady: Are you sure that's the street name?
Me: Well I think so, that's what's on the street signs.
Phone Lady: That street doesn't exist.
Me: Well that's funny since I live in a house on it.
Phone Lady: Are you sure that's the name of the street?

You get the idea. Apparently the gas company uses Avenue E, unlike the electiricity company. I'm sure that lady still thinks I'm crazy and that I think my house is in a PO box.

I mentioned that I live in the upstairs of a house, but I failed to mention that the only entrance to the upstairs is a very narrow flight of stairs, or that I moved an entire U-haul truck, a mini-van, and a car full of stuff up that narrow staircase. My endless gratitude is owed to Corey and Luke for helping me move. Grand total of furniture painfully moved up those stairs: 2 couches, 1 solid oak entertainment center, 1 washer, 1 dryer, 2 full sized beds, 1 table, 6 chairs, 1 TV, 1 armoir, and 1 desk. It took Corey and Luke half an hour to get my washing machine up the stairs and through the door, only to find out that the washer and dryer didn't fit in the space provided for them. I had to buy new ones.

It is rumored that Galveston is full of crazy people. I have found this rumor to be true. I don't mean wild and outgoing people, I mean actual crazy people. "Loonies," as my mother refers to them. I live about 3 blocks from the medical center, and apparently when people get out of the psyc ward they just take up residence in the neighborhood. The bird man next door (he owns the most obnoxious squawking birds I have ever encountered) told me about one that lived down the street, and I encountered him during the first week I lived here. I was walking down my front steps to my car when I saw a tall skinny black man walking down the sidewalk. I thought little of it until he got closer, and I realized that he wasn't black, but covered in shoe polish. As he passed in front of my house he turned towards me, pulled out a tube of mascara, and proceeded to paint his tongue with it. I just stood there, wide-eyed, as he walked on by. The bird man was outside and saw me. He laughed at me and told me that this was only one of his "costumes." He also wears a bull-figthing outfit and fights imaginary bulls in the street. When I told my mom she said "I told you Galveston was full of loonies." Thanks, mom.

There is a lady behind me that we have lovingly named the cat lady. Her name is Margo, she's in her 80's, and she has somewhere around 15 cats living in her house at all times. She apparently works with the animal shelter and takes care of the cats while they locate homes for them. In the 3 months that I have been here, I have only seen her twice, and I have never seen a cat.

This post is long so I'm going to end it. More to come on my neighbors, the owners of my house, and my classmates. It only gets more ridiculous from here.