“Watch out! You could take her head off with that!” some one yelled behind me. The woman’s wide-eyed expression haunts me even now, four-hundred miles away from the scene of my crime.
Who would have thought I’d be the center of attention one rainy morning at a lakeside bistro in a Wisconsin tourist town?
Instinctively sweeping its steel barrel toward the ceiling in response, I made an abrupt about-face in the over crowded room, all eyes upon me, my face flushed in embarrassment.
Suddenly I’d become someone so stupid as not to know how to use one, much less handle it so unsafely in a public place, as my wife shouted from her stool,
“PUSH THE BLUE BUTTON ON THE HANDLE! THE BLUE BUTTON! ON-THE-HANDLE!”
“Do you have a permit-to-carry, buddy?” some guy with a knock-off Brunello Cucinelli sailing cap chortled, his spray-on tan lines showing on his neck.
Wide-eyed children, backed against their petrified parents for security, looked at me with dead serious expressions on their faces.
Tyrannosaurus Rex
The little boy at a nearby table hid his Tyrannosaurus Rex toy behind him so it couldn’t witness my humiliation; the child’s famished father, having waited interminably for his breakfast of French toast lathered in ‘premium maple syrup,’ thankfully ignored my dilemma and gorged himself instead.
My stepdaughter, swiftly sensing the crowd’s growing agitation with my gross ineptitude dealing with something so innate to human populations the world over, knew she had to act quickly before things got uglier.
Exuding confidence, she arose from the table and stepped to my side, lowering the object so not to threaten anyone else, especially the woman whom I had traumatized earlier, by firmly grasping its checkered grip in both hands to reveal the blue release button and soundly punctuated it with her thumb allowing the slide to move ahead.
Deftly, before it could explode, she opened the nearest door to the outside, water cascading through drain spouts to either side of the door toward the street and motioned for me to exit, handing the now opened umbrella to me, and re-entered the dining area to a great round of applause.
https://www.thecottonlondon.com/pages/history-and-types-of-umbrella
Really dad? Brunello Cucinelli was in Bayfield for the Fourth?
ReplyDeleteHe's everywhere on the heads of serious weekend sailors and their wannabes across the Great Lakes especially during the Fourth of July weekend sailing races. A Bruno Cucinelli cap costs hundreds of dollars and this guy didn't have the rest of the gear on his person. You know yourself what a pair of high quality deck shoes and sailing gloves cost, you got 'em in your locker, this guy was sporting discount shoe soles and Lowe Lumber special priced gloves; his cap was not the real deal.
DeleteReally.
Ah, memories of the northern Wisconsin town and of sailing the Big Lake. Thanks.
ReplyDelete