One of the things that scares me is that I am living a life that is not at all unique.  That my doppleganger is living in India and is more or less crafting the same sort of life that I am attempting to.  At all times I want to be living a life that is somewhat original...that there is nobody past present or future that will have had a life that completely mirrored my own.

This scene from Garden State really demonstrates what I am talking about here:




I have always craved to be a part of a moment that helps ensure that my existence is a pretty unique one.   What sometimes I fail to recognize is that there are thousands of moments each day that prove that I have been created to experience specific moments in life.  These moments have seemed to have been prepared for me with such care, much like a writer would a character in a story. 

Well...the Lord today gave me another one of those moments that will linger with me on my deathbed...

This moment was made all possible by a decision I made in a TJ Max store a couple weeks ago.  Here are the facts about my visit to this store:

• I went there to buy a few new (and cheap) various articles of clothing for a trip I was taking. 
• I was excited to go there because my budget was pretty low, and they are one of the only clothing stores that provide the right length of pants for a man of my....um.....sigh....lack of height.
• The items I bought were not the most trendy I have ever bought, they were however very serviceable.
• Or so I thought...
• I bought some blue Vans shoes that cost 12 bucks.  These shoes eventually gave me a blister the size of Yeti Pooh.  (yes...I did just use the word "pooh")
• I purchased a pair of Roedel sized jeans.  Within two days of purchase the back pocket had a rip in it.
• I bought a button-up shirt, that seemed great until we washed it...then it lost nearly all of the buttons.
• One of the best things I bought was a mostly plain green short sleeved shirt.  It was a darker shade of green (which is my favorite color) with a small subtle pattern of what I thought was some sort of vine on the bottom right.  I had no problems with this shirt....

No problems...'til today.  This shirt may force me to change churches.....

I had worn this shirt a few times since I bought it a couple weeks ago.  Both times I wore it, it was more of an ensemble piece.  I would put a buttoned up shirt over the top so that people could only see the front of it.  Today however I decided to give it the main stage by itself, for a couple reasons.

1) Because it was that awesome tint of green that made me look super cool.  It had that mysterious viney pattern at the bottom of it that made me look like a guy who had a subtle earthy agenda.  The shirt was as the kids say was "fly" and it was all kinds of "dope". This was my "dope" shirt!

2) Because I was running late getting my five year old son to Sunday School.  It was the first thing I could find that was clean.

3) And mostly because I put it on, and snuck out of the house with my son without my wife giving me the fashion once over.*

* Yes, I a husband who requires my wife to glance at my apparel before I head out the door for the day.  More often then not I wearing a shirt that I have not buttoned correctly, or I am wearing a seizure inducing color combination, or sometimes the hatch door ain't zipped up enough for the standards of society.  If left alone to my own devices at best I would be more of a walking disaster than I already am..and at worst...well...something like what happened today would occur.

Like I mentioned I was in charge of getting my little guy to his religious formation class.  Because of my lack of respect for time, we were running really late.  So as I tossed on my awesome green shirt, and ran out the door to get him to Jesus School in such a frenzy that I failed to recognize that I was on my way to a series of painful social encounters.

On the drive to take Riley to school I noticed that my shirt (that keep in mind cost me around $4.00) had some sort of writing on the sleeve.  It was written in a sweet cursive font that made my shirt appear even more trendy than I first thought it did.  The word spelled what appeared to be "Reerer".   Next to the word was an image of some sort, but I couldn't really look at it while I was speeding my way to downtown Cheyenne.

My first thought was that Reerer was some sort of word from an ancient language whose meaning derived from "The man who brings the Macho".  Or perhaps it was the name of some sort of forgotten Greek God of awesomeness.   More then likely I thought Reefer probably was the brand name for this green shirt that I was beginning to feel more and more at home in.  Either way I knew this shirt was going to be a conversation starter that would probably look like this:

Person: Hey John!

John:  Hey...um...you.

Person: That shirt is really awesome!  Which makes you the definition of sweetness.

John:  Oh, this thing?  

Person: Oh man!  You must be super successful now!

John: Well...sometimes a shirt is just a shirt.  

Person: Sometimes...

John: But not this time!  This shirt is amazing, right?

Person: Totally.  Here let me give you $500 just to take a picture with you.  Hey by the way, what does Reerer mean?  That is so mysterious!  You are a real handsome man!

John:  I know! Right?

Well...the shirt did serve as a conversation starter...just not the right kind.  If I had "Spidey Sense" this is where it would have started going off...but alas I was ignorantly driving toward social destruction.

On arrival at St. Mary's school my son and I scrambled out of my mini-van o' sexiness and headed into the front doors.  I am usually not someone who walks into a building/room/home/office/jury room/fish market/etc who carries with him a sense of supreme self-confidence.  Usually I am concerned that someone is secretly laughing at me because I have some sauce on my chin, or  because I have committed some other self-grooming sin. This morn was different however, I was walking in with my new glorious shirt. 

I knew I was the closest thing that this school was going to see this day to a young and albeit shorter Harrison Ford.  I was Hans Solo and this shirt was my millennium falcon...sending me into the warp speed of coolness...

It appears I was more Cheech Marin than Harrison Ford though...

As I walked into the school holding my sons hand I began to notice that people were giving me a little dose of stink eye. 

Ha!  "Jealousy" I thought...I am the mayor of trendytown and they want to be in my administration. 

As we navigated the halls that was now thick with parents like myself who were racing to drop their children off for the final class of the year.  Most of the mothers and fathers we passed were giving me a serious once over while we shuffled by each other.  I was sure that I heard people whispering behind us as we made it halfway down the hall to his kindergarten classroom.  My self confidence was eroding quickly as I noticed that most of the people were wearing their true Sunday bests.  Fathers were in shirts and ties, and mothers were all decked out for church.  And here I was walking in a green (but still absolutely awesome) t-shirt, and jeans.  I reasoned that people were staring at me because I was a little too informal for them on this Sunday. 

"Well too bad peeps...I am the cool dad!"  was what I shouted up inside my heart over the growing sound of my self doubt engine firing up.  "Just because you conform does not mean I have to!  I am my own man, and if I want to dress like Axl Rose than you are just going to have to deal with it!"

As I dropped Riley off at his room I swear I heard a mother who was standing next to me gasp when she took a gander at me.  I looked over and smiled.  She looked nervous and quickly turned away.  The teacher waved at us for a moment, and then suddenly her expression was washed over with shock as if she just saw me doing the lambada in a speedo.  (sorry for the imagery....)

My walk out of the school was marked with crusty looks and people who cleared the way as I approached them.  A gentleman who I knew well and always stop to talk with in the halls each Sunday, brushed me off like I was a Nader voter.  I was being shunned...and I had no idea why!

By the time I reached the car I was a little angry, and quite a bit self-righteous.  "Whats wrong with those folk?"  My mind raced with fear that a rumor was speeding that I was joining Al Queda...or worse yet was there a rumor that I was going to be on Big Brother next season?  Most of these people were people I knew...and they were treating me like I was a leper!

While Riley was at school I ran over to the grocery store to get some supplies for my BBQ festival I was planning on having that afternoon.  While at the store I got more of the same of what I experienced at the school.  The looks I received indicated that I was not welcome by many of the patrons who were shopping there.  I remember one elderly couple whom when I joined in the spice aisle quickly put their items back on the shelf and headed out.  The glance the lady gave me was as if I had just stolen her blood pressure meds and stuffed them all up my nose. 

To be honest at this point I was really disturbed by this treatment..My Han Solo self-image was now replaced with the thought that I was now Jar Jar Binks.  I could not understand what was happening...why was I an outcast?

The answer came from the 17 year grocery bagger....

My clerk who helped me check out the items I was buying looked completely uncomfortable with me being in her line.  At no point did she give me any eye contact, or even ask me if I wanted to buy one of those 1 dollar hearts that went toward MS reteach.  While the bagger was bagging my groceries I gave her a prime opportunity and I said " Ok thank you..have a nice day".  She said....NOTHING! 

Fine.  If this is how the world wants to treat me today then I give up!  When I get home I am going to-

"Hey dude" said the grocery bagger as he interrupted my mega-ultra-pity party  "Sweet shirt."

Suddenly I felt better.  This young lad had just spoken the words that would be the ointment for the rash society was giving me. 

"Thank you very much"  I said...and I meant it...I was so grateful to receive on kindness from someone.

"I like to party too man...it's awesome..." he whispered to me now as the clerk shot him a paper white look of silent rage.

Party?  What was he talking about?  But hey he was the oasis of nice in a desert of contempt so I said...

"Right.  Partying is the best"

I felt cheesy saying it, but the young man gave me a quick high-five in approval.  We exchanged a quick look of appreciation for one another and I grabbed my bags and headed out of the store.  I could hear the clerk saying something to him about focusing on bagging and not on chit-chatting as I made my way past the ice machine a few yards away.  Too bad the kid had to take a hit for being the one person to be decent to me today...but wow I needed his words. 

He was right the shirt was "sweet".

And he was also right..."Paryting is awesome".

Hmmmm....

By the time I got in my minivan I started to really think about that last statement he said.  While I like parties, I was now confused about how he came to the conclusion that I, like him, liked to party.  As I sat in the parking lot of the Safeway I started to examine my shirt for the very first time.  What gave off the 'party" vibe from this green and cool t-shirt?  I had no idea....hmmmm...could it be the cool vine drawing that was at the bottom of the shirt?

Wait...that was no vine.

Upon a further examination the picture turned out to be more of a vegetable than a vine.  I guess I had never really looked at image before...so I straightened out the shirt to take a better look.  Yeah it turned out to not be a vine, or a veggie...it was just a huge marijuana leaf.  So that couldn't be -

WAIT....IT WAS A MARIJUANA LEAF!!???

NOT JUST A SMALL LEAF, BUT ONE THAT WOULD MAKE PEOPLE FROM CANADA JEALOUS!!

My tummy started to hurt, and I felt dizzy so I placed my hands upon the steering wheel to provided some support for my body.  Thats when my eyes caught the writing on my sleeve that I noticed on the drive to Sunday School.  The word that I thought was "Reerer" actually turned out to be in big letters to spell "REEFER!"

REEFER!???

NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO

Oh my God...no no no no no

NO!!!!!!!!

Please no......

I was walking billboard for doobage!  

Suddenly the experiences I had that morning started to make a little more sense. 

I am an admitted unemployed guy walking around the halls of St. Mary's School looking a little unkempt and in my "Reefer" shirt...that is enough to scare the soccer mom crowd.  Cheyenne is a small town...I am going to hear about this....oh my God...my MOM is going to hear about this!

MY first thought was to figure out how I could have owned this shirt for two weeks without ever noticing this before?  How did I not ever observe the HUGE STINKIN' MARYJANE LEAD ON THE BOTTOM OR THE WORD REEFER THAT WENT UP THE ARM??? That was a pretty easy answer.  I am stupid.  Once I remembered that I was able to move on to damage control.

What was I going to do about this now?  I had to pick Riley up in five minutes so I could not drive home and change.  I had to walk back into the school with my hemp-tacular shirt on....and there was not one danged thing I could do about it.  I had no change of clothes in the car...no jacket.  Just me and my "dope" shirt.

I could go on and tell you about my experience picking up my son in my promoting the use of elicit drugs outfit, but it is still too soon for me to be talking about that.  I will say that once I knew what people where gawking about, it made my walk of shame in and out of the school quite a bit more painful.  At one point Riley asked me "if we were famous" because everyone was looking at us....

I spent the afternoon taking relaxing and mind altering salt baths while after wards making sure none of my other clothes had "I HEART COCAINE" on them...

Just another day in the life of me...another memory/experience/emotional scar cooked up just for me.

Stupid dope shirt.