A hat for all seasons

AI played with the colors on my template tonight. The white text on black background was sometimes hard on my eyes. I think this is easier to read. Let me know what you think.

After escorting my aunt to the Loretta Lynn concert last weekend, it was time to return to the pseudo bachelor paradise that is my life this weekend. Which pretty much wholly consisted of Axl and I heading to Tuscaloosa Saturday for the Alabama basketball game.

Upon arriving, I found a parking spot and got out of the car. Axl opened the back door and was getting something out of the back seat. Then he did it.

He replaced the completely normal Crimson Bama cap he had been wearing with a black cowboy hat. This turn of events prompted the following exchange:

“What are you doing?”

“I think I might wear a cowboy hat.”

“Uhh, why?”

I don’t remember his response. And it doesn’t really matter, as no possible valid reason even exists.

Now some of you may be thinking, well it is Alabama, this is probably normal. Let me assure you, no, it is not. I don’t recall ever seeing anyone wearing a cowboy hat at any of the of seventy or so university sporting events I’ve attended over the years. We wear Bama caps and houndstooth hats.

Besides that, I’ve never seen Axl wear a cowboy hat in the twenty-plus years I’ve known him. Not to mention, I don’t want to be seen walking into the game with and sitting beside a guy wearing a cowboy hat. But, that’s what happened.

After watching our beloved Tide lose the game, Buffalo Bill and I began the trek back to the car. It had begun to rain. Just as we got outside the coliseum (I was walking several yards ahead of him, for obvious reasons), he called to me from behind:

“Hey, Bone. After all that has happened to me today…”

Did I mention he got a speeding ticket on the way to meet me? Well, he did. I stopped to see what he was talking about. He was holding something in his hand. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what it was: the heel from one of his boots.

I couldn’t help but laugh. And I also couldn’t resist a couple of sly witticisms. Slapping him on the back, I held out my hand and said, “Here, have a Mentos.”

That was followed a few seconds later by, “Dude, you’re supposed to just break the heel off the other shoe when that happens. Come on, be a woman!”

There’s nothing quite like strolling across a college campus in the rain, with your guy friend in tow, who happens to be donning a cowboy hat and limping along on a boot with no heel. These are the memories that last.

The drive home was rather uneventful. Axl wasn’t talking much. It’s amazing how losing a heel can ruin a guy’s whole day. When we got back to where we’d met, I let him out at his car–well, his girlfriend’s car actually, but that’s another story. I turned around as he opened the back door to get his things.

I had noticed he threw several things in the back seat when he got in the car that morning. What I hadn’t noticed was, included among those things were no less than four hats–two Alabama caps and two cowboy hats.

What?

I struggled to grasp this and tried to think of some possible explanation. But there was none. I mean, why? What guy takes four hats to a ballgame? Who brings four hats anywhere? Finally, I managed to speak.

“You brought four hats?”

“Yeah,” he replied as if this was completely normal human behavior and as if it were odd that I would even ask such a thing.

“Why would you bring four hats?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what I was gonna wear.”

It was then, just before he closed the door, that I formed and unleashed my last witticism of the day:

“Too bad you didn’t pack an extra pair of shoes.”

Sometimes the blog entries write themselves.

“Stealing a young girl’s heart, just like Gene and Roy. Singing those campfire songs. Oh, I should’ve been a cowboy…”