*This is an excerpt from a series of essays Matt is working on called 'The Manhattan Memoirs.' It's all about his zany experiences in Manhattan with his cousin Jaynie this past summer. Enjoy!
The Hat Man
I love the word ‘fedora’. I could say it over and over again. Fedora fedora fedora. Take for instance the following sentence- “Jason Mraz finds fedora hats to be quite striking.” Isn’t that a nice sounding sentence? If they didn’t drown my small head I would wear fedoras on a regular basis simply so I could hear the word. “Nice fedora Matt” people would compliment, or “That fedora sure makes you look sexy!” However, my love of fedoras was about to take a turn for the worse.
As Jaynie and I were walking through the East village one day, we walked past a booth full of hats, mainly fedoras. I had learned early on not to make eye contact with the street vendors, unless you were interested, and as we were walking past I maintained a straight line of vision, looking neither to the left or right for very long. Jaynie, however, broke the cardinal rule and made the mistake of stopping to look at the hats, then making eye contact with the Chinese man in charge.
“Yu wike my hats?” The Chinese man asked enthusiastically. I turned back to the two and as soon as the vendor saw me he gave a toothy grin, grabbed the nearest hat and approached me at a much faster pace than I was altogether comfortable with. Before I could say so much as “Please don’t touch me, I don’t know you,” the man had thrust a fedora down over my head.
Jaynie snickered and quickly covered her mouth and the man looked pleased with himself. “Yu wook bewy bewy nice in my hat!”
“Aww, yeah, thanks.” I then pulled the hat off. “Yeah, I’m kinda sweaty and I don’t wanna ruin your hat, here you go.” I handed the fedora back.
“Ooh, you twy anova one then!” The man then procured a checkered fedora from off a peg and slammed it down over my eyes. I pulled the hat up enough so I could see.
“I like that one Matt!” said Jaynie. “Ooh, let’s try that one on you.” She pointed to a brown fedora, and the man quickly snatched it. This time I took the hat from him and placed it on my head myself.
“He wooks bewy handsome wewing my hat, ony tweny five dollas!” the Chinese man exclaimed. I politely handed the hat back.
“Thank you, but I’m just looking today.” The man’s disposition instantly chilled and I suddenly felt nervous.
“Yu no buy a hat fwom me?” the Chinese man asked in a much quieter voice as he put his hands on his hip.
“Um no thank you, but they were very nice, thanks for-“
“Yu waste my time!” The man suddenly bellowed. He narrowed his eyes shrilly and I took a step back in alarm.
“Go! Go away fwom my stow!” The man then literally began flapping his hands and shooing us out of his booth, the way Miss Alabama would probably shoo away a swarm of mosquitoes with her stiletto heels during her talent portion.
Jaynie and I kind of gasped in fright and we retreated hastily to the street, and started laughing as we ran a little further away. I looked over my shoulder and could see the man still brandishing a fedora at us out of his anger.
And that is why you do not make eye contact with street vendors.
©Matt Jaggi, February 2012
Scary. Gosh, with all that suspense how could you NOT make eye contact! It's like when we play Mario and Paul and I are in a bubble and we tell you "Matt! don't bubble!" and then you instantly do anyways. :)
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