jamie doom

I turned the car towards downtown Asheville. It was now 9:30, and so far I hadn’t spent any of the five dollars in my possession. I had been saving those same five dollars since Monday. Two days to payday, and it was looking less and less like I was going to have to resort to anything sketchy to make it. My newly started book An American Childhood was riding shotgun as I entered downtown and began looking for a parking space. I decided to go to Cafe Old Europe. As I approached the front of Old Europe, I noticed an empty space directly in front of the small cafe. I was cautious. It would be no good to get excited right away only to then be laid low by the last minute sight of a small handicapped parking sign. Slowly, I approached said parking place and indeed there were no blue handicap signs anywhere around the space.

Mike, I was so close to the entrance of Old Europe, I had to be careful opening my car door so as not to bump one of the outside tables, spilling someone’s latte. And as I slid out of my car past those tables, I don’t think I was imagining the looks of respect one receives when he finds the perfect parking space. I had remembered to take my book with me. I entered Old Europe feeling complete, and ready for whatever the rest of the night had in store.

Let me take a second and explain what I was wearing as I entered Cafe Old Europe. First, I had on my white In & Out Burger T-shirt. Its sheer comfort and easy wear-ability makes it worth the possibility of turning away interesting, if pretentious, vegan girls. Next, I had on khaki colored cargo shorts cinched smartly with a brown belt. These shorts have a bit of white paint dripped on them, from the time you and I painted your parents porch. Remember? Just a few drips, maybe four in all–enough to look lived in, but not the passé eighties-paint-splatter-look. These shorts whisper, to those who notice. “Young genius.” Next, I had on my blue rip-stop fabric ball cap. It’s blue, and my hair sticks out under it around my ears and out the back. Lastly, I had on my Merrell adventure shoes and no socks. You were with me when I bought these shoes. You realize I was teetering until the smart salesman said the words “adventure shoes.” Now, every time I put them on I say, “adventure shoes.” It gets one in the right type of mind frame for the evening I’m having, no?

So in I strode, Annie Dillard’s book in one palm, and the crazy idea that the world was in the other.