Hat Guy

Growing up in an exceedingly sarcastic family, I’ve developed a deadpan delivery when I tell stories or say ridiculous things.  I am so deadpan that, on occasion, people don’t realize that I’m actually joking.  My college BFF, Tower, is pretty good at this too.  Thus, this was able to happen.

About three months into our first semester of college we meandered to the Starbucks at the campus library after some intense studying.  

We got stuck in line behind a couple that couldn’t seem to hurry up and decide what they actually wanted.  Being that we were already caffeine deprived, it didn’t exactly improve our moods. 

Despite a decided lack of energy, Tower, an avid hat collector… (hoarder)…

...noticed that the dude in front of us was indeed wearing a hat, and said something to the effect of, “Nice hat, bro.”  Or, “Sweet hat.” Or “Absolutely delightful chapeau.”  My memory is a bit hazy, it was months ago after all.  At any rate, the Hat Guy swung round and let loose a mighty:

Hat Guy then proceeded to launch into an excited retelling of how his girlfriend (fig. 1), had just finished making said hat (fig. 2).  

His explanation made clear to me why this shady example of a hat appeared to have been slapdashidly put together with random stitches, hot glue, felt, and the skin of more than one small animal, all by a second grader without parental assistance.  
We had settled into an awkward lull in conversation after that, as neither Tower or I could find something kind to say about the abominable headwear.  Hat Guy couldn’t let the silence be, though, and he asked:

I thought this was an exceedingly dumb question as we both looked exhausted and were in a Starbucks.  That question was about as dumb as Ke$ha base-jumping with a parachute made out of a single extra large condom.

I quickly searched my repertoire for something to say:

However, Tower answered first. 

Still feeling the need for conversational input, I whipped out this little gem:

(Disclaimer: TOTALLY untrue.  Anyone who has ever taken me to a buffet can attest to the amount of food I can put away.  Chinese buffets HATE me.)

But I digress!  Hat guy stared at me dumbfounded, like I was Christian Bale from The Machinist.

 I could see Tower out of the side of my eye chuckling to himself.  Hat Guy turned to me and earnestly said:

At which point we made a quick exit.  

I still wonder on occasion what Hat Guy thinks of us.  He probably just assumes we’re in a mutually abusive relationship.