15-year-old motorcycle jacket
This is a FanX story.*
No knitting today, but be patient, my lovelies, it will come.
As a volunteer in programming (panels), my head boss manager captain was Rick. Rick is 13 different kinds of awesome. Besides being patient, efficient, kind, concise, and so organized, Rick is so thoughtful.
I thought I would stay at FanX for a lot longer than I ended up needing to – by just about an hour, give or take 15 minutes. To get home at the time I had arranged a ride for, I needed to take a train that would get me home close to midnight, and I figured it would be a better option to wait that extra hour in the convention center rather than a train station. I sat down, stood up and put on every single article of clothing I had with me, sat down again, and began to knit. (Hey, knitting!)
It was a little cold, but much warmer than it would have been had I chosen to sit at the train station, so I resolved to myself to knit happily and not shiver as much (One of those worked well. You can guess.) I was just sitting there (sort of all curled up and
a little fairly pretty cold) knitting. I have an extraordinarily hard time regulating my body temperature, and even my civilian shirt layered over my undershirt with my volunteer shirt under my jacket was not enough.
Rick came over to me and asked if he could help me. I told him all I needed to do was wait, and he offered to sit with me. His hotel was right across the street, and he had nothing else to do that night. We sat and talked for a long time, and other than being incredibly patient and wittily clever, he noticed that I had my jacket zipped up all the way to my chin and was still cold. He offered his jacket (which he had set on the floor, not wearing) to me, and after a little back-and-forth, I gratefully accepted. I draped it over my lower torso/lap and nearly instantaneously felt warmer. This jacket, a lovely brown color, was obviously well-loved – the creases where it folded were well worn, and the jacket seemed to me to be one of those friends you could keep on keeping. He told me it was 15 years old, and he had worn and used it ( I know he meant loved it. He is just a man and didn’t say that. I knew what he meant.) nearly the whole time.
I felt incredibly special, and when the time came for me to catch the rail to get to my train, I thanked him profusely and offered the jacket to him again. After confirming I would be at the convention center the next morning, he told me to keep it. I could drop it off the next morning at this room number (which I wrote on my hand). He walked me out of the convention center and across the street, where we parted ways – he to his hotel room and me to the station.
I rode the rail line to the transfer station, switched to the train, and after I had gotten off, I waited for my ride. Unfortunately, my ride had been held up considerably, and there was a 20/30
century minute wait on my end. Keep in mind now, this is about midnight early in a typical Utah March. I stood there and waited patiently and stomped my feet and had a little bit of a cry (My body is awful at being the right temperature) and thanked my lucky stars that I had this lovely, well worn, selflessly given motorcycle jacket to wear.
My ride came, and I got home safely that night, and first thing that next morning I returned the jacket to the room number I had written on my hand. I left a note in the pocket, and walked away. I felt a strange, lingering sadness at leaving that jacket behind, but all I want to express right now is a deep, long-lasting thankfulness that Rick let me borrow it. It really meant more than you can know, and you are a good man.
Until Comic Con!
*I know that FanX was a long time ago. This story is really important to me, and it was important that I tried to do it justice. My life is currently really hectic, so it wasn’t until now that I had the time to do that.