RIP Walgreens Hat
October 26, 2016
Rest in peace, my sweet Walgreens hat.
Before I so rudely left you at a rest station in Kyrgyzstan en route to Uzbekistan from Naryn, I first met you when you arrived in Amazon packaging in Washington, DC. Before we met in person, I had only seen a picture of you before I made the leap of faith to bring you into my life, so I suppose you were a picture bride of sorts. And I had only been in DC for a month or so, so I suppose that made me a Washington Nationals bandwagoner of sorts.
After you arrived in Foggy Bottom, I broke in your brim slowly. Though, actually I didn’t. I cheated and used a glass container of Tostito’s mild (or was it medium?) salsa and wrapped your brim around the jar with a belt in order to get a uniform curve. It worked nicely.
And thank goodness it worked, because DC was brutal that summer. It was unbelievably sunny and as you know well, the accursed sun is kinda the bane of my existence. With the proper angling, your large brim covered my entire face beautifully. Heaven only knows how many sun spots you spared me and how many years you added to my life (assuming I’m skin cancer free. I guess we’ll figure that out in a few years). Though you owed me nothing and knew no wrong, you bore the burden of the sun’s rays for me, let the UV rays batter your entire brim and body, and paid the ultimate price when I callously and so casually abandoned you. Reminds me of someone.
Anyways, you served me faithfully. You followed me to the south of France, Barcelona, Rome and Florence, Prague, Frankfurt and Heidelberg, New Haven, New Hampshire, New York. And finally Kyrgyzstan, where fate (or just my carelessness, tbh) made us part.
I suppose that my half-joking, half-not interest in Christian asceticism and the Consortium commitment to austerity led me to not feel too much pain when I realized you were gone. After all, you are merely material, a created thing. But while I will not idolize the physical and temporary part of you, I must say that we shared many beautiful memories. You were a link between me and other people and for that, I suppose that makes you partially eternal?
To be quite honest, I feel a little guilty that I replaced you so soon after losing you. I know you would want that for me but it still doesn’t feel completely right to me. And my new hat really isn’t the same.
Good night, sweet prince.
P.S. Here’s the new hat if you’re curious. It’s pretty dope: