Dear Diary:
One morning last week, as I stepped into the elevator in my apartment building, I encountered an unfamiliar man carrying a bulky tool bag, who was in mid-conversation with, it seemed, an invisible friend. I didn't spot a cellphone or Bluetooth, and there was no one else in the elevator.
Normally, I would assume this was just another stressed-out New Yorker talking to himself, but - wait - I could also hear the other person's voice! Was I going crazy, too?
Finally I asked, “Who the heck are you talking to?â€
The guy laughed and pointed upward.
“I'm the elevator repairman, and my buddy is riding on the top of the car.â€
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