My youngest needs a suit coat. He has a suit coat, but it's black and it's
very expensive. He needs a blue suit
jacket for traveling with his college lacrosse team. I imagine this jacket getting left on the team
bus or being slept on or in at one of the hotels the team will stay in during
the season. I anticipate the jacket
wearing some food item that would be better served had it actually hit a mouth;
something like mustard from a hot dog or cheese from a pizza. He tells me about this coat sometime last week
then reminds me again Friday. The suit
coat needs to be delivered before the team leaves on their road trip.
I have until Sunday to produce this piece of clothing.
I do what any other desperate parent would do: I start asking around to my pals who have
sons about my son's age to see if there might be an extra, errant navy blue
suit jacket hanging in someone's closet.
This is when my friend offers to let me follow her into her
hometown. We are not going to her house;
we are not scouring her closets. She
already knows that no blue suit jacket is hanging in any of her sons'
closets. But she does have a brilliant
idea: The Salvation Army Thrift Store is
just a few miles from where we work.
This idea is brilliant for several reasons. The first reason this idea is brilliant is
because it is my friend's idea, and my friend truly is brilliant, therefore her
idea is brilliant simply by osmosis. The
second reason why this idea is brilliant is because I don't have a lot of time
to be searching stores for a blue suit jacket, and this may well be a one-stop
shopping experience if we're lucky. The
third reason why this is a brilliant idea is because maybe I can find a suit
jacket in decent shape for cheap money.
The final reason why this idea is brilliant is because my son's favorite
clothing store of late is the Salvation Army Thrift Store.
The stuff my son finds at the Salvation Army Thrift Store
ranges anywhere from Halloween costumes to sports jerseys to ugly holiday
sweaters for parties. He has scored
multiple sport teams' gear and logo wear, including a Quebec Nordiques
sweatshirt and a Team China basketball jersey.
His incredible luck rubs off on us as we head to the rear of the store,
the area where the men's suit coats reside.
We find not one, not two, not three, but four decent (actually, they're
above decent) navy suit coats. Now to
decide which one will fit him.
And here's where the trouble starts, officer.
My friend directs my attention to the front of the store
where a teenaged boy about my son's age, height, weight, and build is about to
leave. My mind is running amok with
possible ways to open the conversation, but in the end, it doesn't matter what
I say. I will say anything to get out of
that store with a navy sport coat. I
take a breath and open my mouth to speak in one completely connected and long
winded plea.
"Hi, this is
going to sound crazy, but may I ask you a question? My son plays lacrosse, and he needs a suit
coat to wear with the team and you're the same height and size--" and
on and on and on.
Mercifully this pleasant and agreeable young gentleman tries
on the sport coat without even giving it a second thought. I don't even have to finish begging him, so I
immediately change gears into apology mode, or, as it turns out, overkill
apology mode. Three minutes later, the
boy has left the store (probably for his own protection), and three minutes
after that I am carrying a men's navy blue suit jacket out to my car.
I am $7 lighter, but I have salvaged the rest of my
afternoon. Most important of all, son
will have his suit coat (and he'll look strikingly like a random teenager whose
shopping trip gets hijacked by a crazy old biddy). Now, all I have to do is remember to put the
jacket in the car before I drive to his college, and I'll be all set.
