Most people have a sort of ‘signature’ – something that, at least in their own mind, represents their image.
For several years, mine has been my Oakley Straight Jacket sunglasses. With these, my black trench coat, and scalped head, my son says I look like an “assassin.” This is about as close to a compliment as a teenager can give to his father.
About seven months ago, I was packing for a quick business trip to Dallas and thought that I put my prize Straight Jackets in their case and into my backpack. Upon arrival, they were not with me. I had no clue what happened to them.
Over the years, many sunglasses have come my way from Tifosi and Rudy Project, so I have about a dozen cases lying around. Ironically, I actually paid for the Oakleys – and they are essential to my image – and I lost them. Dammit.
Back to the OCD theme… I use the same Tyr backpack nearly every day to pack my workout clothes or whatever. I tore this backpack apart at least 30 times looking for these shades. My bottom drawer, full of old glasses and cases and body glide and every manner of triathlete paraphenalia was also ripped apart numerous times. I looked everywhere and after about six months gave up. Finally, I resorted to asking Santa for a new pair.
Then, days before the big holiday, while lugging my tired Tyr backpack out of the car, I notice a familiar ear piece sticking out of a zippered pocket. A Christmas Miracle – somehow they returned. What a joyous day.
My groove has returned. The shoulders are kicked back a bit more and I absolutely feel much studlier. Apparently I really need a Straight Jacket.