"les extraordinaire postes" ~ The Asylum

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The United States post office is one short block from my apartment in New York City. This particular station holds a special carousel of characters which constantly percolate and change with the seasons. I have discovered that visits to the post office hold a wealth of surprise, humor, amazement and insight into human nature.

The city is usually fairly quiet during the month of August, especially just before Labor day; and so it was on this occasion. One of my almost daily mail deposits required for my mail order business. There were just a handful of people in the large cool stone room which is my station. Having zig-zagged through the nylon strap maze which usually hold an array of colorfully assorted and sometimes angry people I made my way to second position in the line.

There I observed a most peculiar stick figure of a woman in her late fifties. Her mission, to shuffle in a straight line until confronted by an obstacle, at which time the interruption in stride would send her on a totally new excursion, like a wind-up toy that changes direction upon bumping a wall or piece of furniture.

Her ashen pallor clung to her flounder flat face like a dish rag, not much different in color from her two very small, very close together glassy marble eyes. She had a small light switch for a nose and was missing a mouth completely. A Helmet of soot gray hair looking professionally done made a smooth bubble topped doo complimented by very straight sideburns. Her dress was made of thin oatmeal colored cotton which hung lifelessly from her formless body accompanied by a pair of open back bedroom slippers that made a scuffing noise as she shuffled tirelessly across the room.

"Una, Una, Una" exclaimed a middle aged black women nearby struggling with a tall rectangular package bungee corded to a flimsy aluminum luggage cart. Taking the zombie-like figure in tow it was clear she was Una's care giver, multitasking at the post office.

An unattended double stroller holding two screaming children made an appropriate side show. Meanwhile, oblivious postal workers talked and joked among themselves, lingering behind thick bulletproof acrylic windows.

All and all about a ten minute visit.

by Michael Hostovich