The Jacket.

30 Jan

Last night Charlie and I went for a drink to another one of those beer bars. We ordered our usual “whatever’s on tap that tastes like water” and settled in next to the jukebox, which is totally stressful because you dictate the mood of the the ENTIRE BAR and pretty much can control whether someone gets dumped/wasted/laid/naked by the tap of a screen. The stools were occupied by scruffy 20s boys and their comrades, most of whom would have been thrilled with live Dave Matthews Band tracks or the Killers. We chose some top notch showtunes, “Don’t Stop Believin” fourteen times in a row, and Cindy Lauper’s greatest hits, but unfortunately we forgot to inform the barmaid that we put money in the machine, so the owner’s iPod prevailed and either saved or destroyed the evening for the handful of other patrons. We discussed Charlie’s future and how he’s a really really bad driver, and about my continued desires to be a weed dealer and have an Asian baby (catch 22 – I really want to wear maternity clothes one more time but the only way for me to get an Asian is to adopt…). We complained about the bar’s lack of snacks, and talked smack about the barmaid for not shutting off the iPod and for having the audacity to try to give us useful information about the beer we were drinking, like the name, which we obviously didn’t care about based on our criteria for drinking it.

And then we saw it.

Slung limply over a barstool a few feet away from us. A black jacket, which wouldn’t be alarming in any way, were it not for the Rastafarian stripes around the collar and sleeves.

“What the fuck is that?”

We didn’t know. I mean, yes, we knew it was a jacket. So maybe it was more of a question of “WHY?”

Charlie and I each developed theories of The Jacket’s owner. My theory was that he went to his first Phish show and it was in New Paltz and he went to a head shop and excitedly purchased the cheapest typical/wannabe/so-not-a stoner thing he could find. Charlie said that the owner proudly spent at least $70 on The Jacket, and purchased it in the same trendy place where he gets his jeans. We stared at the coat until the owner retrieved it and put it on. Scruffy 20s boy, decent haircut. I told Charlie I was altering my theory. “Guy sells weed! He’s a weed dealer! It’s like his calling card! Genius!!” And then…..

Charlie: Excuse me, are you a weed dealer? My friend thinks you might be.

Me: Because of your jacket.

Weed Dealer: I knew I shouldn’t have bought this jacket! It was such a good deal though!

M (obnoxiously to Charlie): Told you, bitch!

WD: It was only $140! Marked down from $280.

C (obnoxiously to me): Told you, bitch!

M: Well it’s really cool that you’re a weed dealer. I totally want to be a weed dealer too!

WD: I’m not a weed dealer.

C: Are you sure?

WD: I thought this jacket was so cool. Look! (closes jacket) It even says Oakley across the chest when you close it!

M: So you bought it for the mountain.

WD: Well yeah (obviously doesn’t snowboard, judging by hesitation in voice)

M: Well maybe you should only wear it on the mountain. I think you’d get better feedback there.

WD: Thank you, I will take that into consideration.

And that was that. The Jacket got ready to leave the building, presumably to smoke a cigarette or get a bagel at the 24 hour bagel place next door (we’re not the only ones who complain about the lack of bar snacks, it’s a serious problem). He started walking, but slowed and turned around.

WD: If you really wanna sell weed…

M: (wide-eyed, super excited for the secret to my future success)

WD: Don’t. You won’t make money. Sell coke. Don’t do it.

M: Ok, thank you, stranger. Wholeheartedly. I will not do coke. Because of you.

CD: No prob.

The moral of the story is that when you’re out with Charlie, don’t let him talk to strangers. But always let him pick the music!


This week I’ll be blogging about Grocery Shopping for Restaurant Owners, Avoiding People You Haven’t Seen in Awhile Unless You’re Having an Amazing Hair Day, and many more pressing issues.


One Response to “The Jacket.”


  1. epic battle: shelby vs. harry « shelbytown - July 9, 2012

    […] because I’m getting a tattoo (I swear it’s happening soon.) and I’m an aspiring weed dealer  and I have a Burberry raincoat but my favorite possession is a Kiss concert shirt from 1980 that […]

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