Empty your pockets
Rummaging through the pockets of a coat, sweater or pair of jeans I’ve neglected for any lengthy span of time is one of those small pleasures I’ll never tire of. That’s mostly because there’s always the chance that I’ll come across a few bucks that my past self completely forgot about prior to relegated the garment to the corners of my closet or room. Usually, though, my finds are limited to old Taco Bell receipts and coin currency of such little value that I can hardly muster the effort to put it somewhere for safe keeping until I’m in dire need of 14 cents. Occasionally, though, I’ll pluck some items from that garment that actually trigger some lucid memories.
Earlier tonight, I conceded that no one on eBay has any interest in an old jacket of mine that I’ve been desperately trying to pawn off for the last several weeks. The jacket, a treasured find of mine from some end-of-season sale several years back, had seen its share of battles. Or perhaps, it would be more accurate of me to say that propensity for physically moving around at times exposed the shoddy third-world construction of the jacket (namely the shitty stitching on the lining of the jacket, which seemingly exploded on impact the second or third time I wore it).
The jacket not good enough for seemingly anyone on eBay.
While the inside of the jacket has seen many better times, the overall jacket looked fine enough that I didn’t feel guilty about reaching for a nearby box destined for the local Goodwill and tossing the jacket into it. Before I did, though, I had to pillage the approximate 30 pockets sprinkled throughout the coat’s eccentric design. My findings were:
- A receipt for a money order for $20 purchased on Feb. 5, 2009
- Two ticket stubs from a Jan. 30, 2009 screening of The Wrestler
- An unused rubber from an ill-fated spring 2008 date. I should note that while unused, the wrapper was so badly worn that it looked more grotesque than any of the STD’s it’s designed to safeguard the Johnson from.
- Half an index card with the names of several pro wrestlers scribbled on it. After some confused glares at the card, I remembered that it was from an excursion to WWE’s Royal Rumble in Detroit several years ago and that these wrestlers had been my randomly selected picks to win the 30-man Royal Rumble match (the winner of this pool took home a cool 30 bucks). Rey Mysterio was the “best” wrestler I got. Needless to say, I did not win $30 that night.
- A receipt from dinner at a Chinese restaurant nearly two years ago to the day.
In essence, I found a lot of trash in those pockets. But the nostalgic bloke in me enjoyed literally pulling some fond memories from those pockets: The great story from the shitty date; the utter disappointment that was The Wrestler; that meal at the Chinese restaurant being one of the last times that collective of people broke bread (or rather, crab cheese) together, and of course, the voyage to Detroit in the midst of a Midwest winter all for the sake of me damning Rey Mysterio.
It’s a risky proposition to get too caught up in the memories. But it’s nice to know that as long as I’ve got clothes I’m ignoring, I’ve a potential opportunity waiting for me to reflect on moments that came in a flash and left as quickly.
