Total Perspective Vortex

Overheard at a coffee shop in the West Village early this morning.

CUSTOMER#1: Hey, Georgie, wadda think about that plane crashing into that apartment buiding yesterday. Scary, huh?
GEORGIE: Yeah, when I heard about it I was, like, holy crap, here we go again, ya know?
CUSTOMER#1: I know it! I couldn't believe it.
GEORGIE: Yeah, me too. Here we thought it was a suicidal terrorist. Who knew it would turn out to be a Yankee pitcher.
CUSTOMER#1: Yeah. Who knew?

The two men were quiet for a minute and then apparently decided to change the subject.

CUSTOMER #1: Hey, the Yankees suck. Big time.
GEORGIE: Yeah, that they do.

After spending a few hours in the office, the last patient comes up to my desk and I notice that he seems to be feigning confusion. He is 76 years old and he stands over me -- hovering -- not speaking, just breathing heavily and contorting his face in a pantomine of violent thinking. I thought of that line from Douglas Adams: "His eyes seemed to be popping out of his head. He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point."

ALICE: Alright. How can I help you?
PATIENT: I need a prescription. Tell the doctor that I need a prescription for... what's it called? You know. What's the name of that medicine for men? On those commercials?
ALICE: I'm sure I don't know.
PATIENT: Yeah, you do. You know. The one for men.

Then he plasters an "aha" look on his face, as if he just managed to comandeer the brain cells to the right track.

PATIENT: You know. The one for sex.
ALICE: I see. Do you mean viagra?
PATIENT: YEAH! THAT'S IT!
ALICE: I'll make a note of it for the doctor.
PATIENT: Wait. Tell him that I don't want the bottle with 50 pills. I want 100.
ALICE: I bet you do.