Have You Seen The Size Of That Boy’s Heeeed?

There was a parcel on my desk when I got into the office this morning, and I eagerly tore into it knowing full well what it contained. Last week I decided I was in desperate need of a baseball cap, and after being upsold during the checkout process on lids.com I ended up with a blue Maple Leafs and red Canadiens cap. And they’re beautiful. And they’re XL. And they couldn’t be smaller and more ill-fitting around my ginormous skonz if I were Willie Mackenzie himself.

When football season started at Vermont Academy, even though I was a starter I had to go through hell week helmetless – because a large one had to be special ordered for me (private school). The year before at CCHS, I had to make do by jamming my head into the only helmet that came close. This left my chin fully exposed and subsequently got me knocked unconscious by Jodice during the WestPoint drill one day at practice (public school). So this sort of hardship is nothing new. But somehow, as I looked at the XL on the sizing chart last week, I figured I’d be OK – and momentarily forgot that if I’d been in Louisiana last week near one of the broken levees, I probably could have saved thousands of lives by simply nodding a few times.

I’ll send them back and get a refund. There’s a 30 day guarantee. In the meantime, I shall remain hatless – and will also try to block out the time I went up to my roofdeck for a smoke and it was mistaken by scientists around the world as a lunar eclipse. I’m here all weekend. Tip your waitress.