The Grooming Mysteries: The Stone Wall and The Protective Cap

I’m at the Mohegan Sun Casino on a Saturday night waiting in the lobby.  I notice that someone has placed a protective cap from a deodorant stick on the ledge of a decorative stone wall.  Admittedly I don’t get out too often, but this seems a bit strange and arbitrary.  Am I wrong in thinking this?

Naturally, something this out of the ordinary got me thinking about the backstory.  Even though the scent would’ve pretty much been a dead giveaway as to a man or woman leaving it there, I didn’t smell it.  But I would imagine that a guy would have probably done this.  I imagine that it’s probably someone in their 20s.

They’re heading out to meet their buddies for a night out and hopefully meet up with a nice lady. Single would be nice, but that’s not a deal breaker for our hero.  As they’re driving, to the casino it dawns on them that they’ve left the house without putting deodorant on.  He’s probably running late, so it’s too late to turn around.  So, he stops at Rite Aid and picks up a stick of AXE for Men and a pack of Trident White Cool Rush.  He pays and the cashier asks him if wants a bag. But he opts against it, gives her few bucks, tells her to keep the thirty seven cents, and grabs his items from the counter and leaves.  He’s given away so much change on Friday or Saturday nights like this because he doesn’t want his Joe's Jeans Men's King Rocker Slim Fits to get too heavy or bulky – why else would he opt for the thin pack Trident, it lies better in the jeans.

Our hero arrives at Mohegan Sun at Pocono Downs and parks his car.  He’s even later now. So, even though it’s currently 37 degrees F and expected to drop to 28, he decides to leave his coat because it would take too long to check it.   He grabs his deodorant, gum, and iPhone 5 from the passenger seat and heads towards the building.   On the way he texts his buddy to say he’s there and then slides the pack of Trident into his right front pants pocket.    He reaches the building, pulls the door open, walks into the warm vestibule, and puts his iPhone in his back, right pocket.

Then, he opens the second door, walks into the lobby, pulls the first cap off his Axe for Men and heads to a stone wall off to the side so as to not rouse too much suspicion as to what he is doing.  He pops the protective cap off and places it on the ledge. Our hero then shoves the stick up his shirt, quickly applies, and walks towards the garbage can where he throws the stick away.  He then turns the corner, heads to Breakers (a bar), sees his buddies, gives them bro hugs, and the night begins.

I don’t know why a silly piece of plastic made me think of this, but it did.  There are a ton of other possibilities.  But this was my immediate thought.

Read More

Dispelling the Tooth Fairy

Everyone has a moment in their life when childhood traditions are put to rest.  I vividly remember shopping with my parents around Christmas time.  My mother saw a small pinball machine on an endcap and placed it in the shopping cart.  I had asked her who she’s getting it for and she gave me the vague response: “family.”

Christmas Day rolled around.  My mother gave me box that was wrapped with a white paper with little photos of presents printed on it.  I tore it open with delight and saw that it was a small pinball machine.  I was not mad, did not enjoy it any less, and I didn’t call my mum a fibber.  It was a great present.  But at that moment, I looked at the box differently.  I realized that presents were no longer brought by ‘Santa’   - I was five years old.

The following year I would come to my next realization that there was no Tooth Fairy.

One morning my father was preparing to go to work.  It was about 5:30am and he had turned on the hallway light. The brightness of it shined into my room and woke me.  Winter was winding down and spring was slowly emerging. Groggy, I flipped onto my other side and looked outside.  The sun was starting to rise and a blue haze of the morning sky made its way into my window.

I could hear the engine of the car running (which my father turned on to warm up the car while he did other things around the house) and the heavy sound of his belt buckle hitting the closet door as he took it off the rack.  I shut my eyes tightly to try to fall asleep quicker.  The light switch clicked and bright light that shined into my room dimmed to darkness.  I rolled onto my back, eased the tightness of my eyelids, and began to drift into sleep again.

A few moments passed. The light switch clicked and the bright light filled the air; again half-waking me.  I hear the heavy feet of my father growing louder as he walked towards my room.  Shielded me from the light he then reached for my pillow and (anything but gingerly) lifted it - tumbling me over, face first, to the other side of my bed as he shoved money under the pillow.

He walked, heavy footed, out of the door way as I lifted my face from the other pillow. The bright light filled the room again. The sound of his heavy footsteps trudging down the hall began to fade.   The switch clicked and the light disappeared.  The front door opened and the house shook as it closed.  The car door opened and then shut.  The lock of the transmission sounded as he put it into gear and drove away.

I turned on the light, lifted my pillow, and was excited to have the dollar that was left behind – the most I had ever received from the “Tooth Fairy.” Maybe it was because he didn’t have change (I typically got a quarter).

By the age of 6, I've said good bye to two iconic traditions of my youth.

Read More

The Fly Who Saw Ireland

June 2005. JFK Airport. Aer Lingus Flight number 104 to Dublin now boarding.

Grabbing our carry-ons we crowd towards the gate. We form two lines handing the ticketing agents out boarding passes. He no doubt passes the entire line as the agents tear off the stubs -invisible to all of us

No boarding pass

No luggage.

No place to sit.

On the plane, we walk through the aisle and fumble around to find our seats.  Looking up at the tags to match them up to our ticket stubs - 4A, 7C, 15E and so on.  Finally, settling into my aisle seat, I await take off.

The plane levels out after takeoff and I take out my laptop.  I lower my tray table, place the computer on it, lift the lid, and turn it on.  After a few moments, I begin navigating around the many icons on my desktop.  As I am pressing on the touchpad I notice him through my periphery on my right.  Sitting there, rubbing his hands together, and staring at my screen. I think about how he made it here – nested in someone’s carry or just clandestinely through the doors.  I don’t bother him and I start playing a video game.

I awake after having nodded off a few hours into the flight. Groggy, MP3 player on, adjusting to the bright sunlight reflecting off the walls, I look around to reorient myself with my surroundings.  I see him again roaming listlessly around the cabin – I stare, begin to fantasize about his journey.   My staring goes unnoticed. The movements make me drowsy. My eyelids grow heavy, and I return to sleep.

We land in Dublin on schedule. Everyone stands and begins to shuffle around the overhead compartments for their belongings.  After standing for what seemed to be an eternity, hear the sound of the door open and begin to file out.  The steward has on a fake smile and is repeatedly telling everyone to have a nice day.

I smile.

As I step through the door he zips past and heads to the terminal at a record pace.  No one seems to notice.  I put my bag on the ground, extend the handle, and begin rolling it behind me towards the terminal.

I think back to New York imagine what he has experienced -  seeing the concrete and steel; hearing the city street noise. I think of the flight and the distance he's traveled. I think of all that he has ahead of him.  Who knows how much time he has left or what he will see - the green pastures, the stone castles, the water landscapes.

I think that he will have seen things in his life that very few of his kind, or even us, ever will.

The Fly Who Saw Ireland.

Read More