In the past few years, I have amassed a large assortment of baseball caps, only a few sporting logos of actual major league teams.
I paid money for just one, a cap from Augusta National, bought during the 2016 Masters golf tournament. I can’t remember what I paid; suffice it to say it was at least twice what one would consider a respectable price for head attire. The Masters makes millions off spectators whose only justification for purchasing outrageously priced items such as golf tees, coasters and oven mitts is, “Hey, it’s the Masters.”
The rest of my cap collection just randomly appeared. Some, containing corporate logos, were stuffed in swag bags given to attendees at meetings sponsored by the corporation. I won a few others at golf outings. I have no idea where the U.S. Army cap came from, as I have never served in the armed forces.
Frat boys and hipsters may wear their caps backward; I prefer the traditional look. True, the wide-brimmed bill models make me look like Donald Duck; but I don’t care. For I have discovered a well-chosen baseball cap has purposes far beyond combating sunburn or keeping one’s hair dry during rainstorms. Caps can eliminate loneliness, inspire curiosity or even command respect if worn in the right environment. Let me explain.
I make my living as a stand-up comedian, so I spend a good portion of time on the road, alone. I prefer eating meals at bars as opposed to being the guy dining in solitude at restaurant tables. But, if I desire conversation during my meal, I don my Chicago Cubs cap. The sight of it usually inspires at least one other bar patron to ask, “You from Chicago?” “Cubs fan?” or, recently, “Doesn’t Cubs pitching suck?” I reply in the affirmative to all questions and conversation usually ensues. This was the case recently at Calico Jacks Bar & Grill, a delightful beach watering hole on the Cayman Islands. While other patrons, mostly couples, sampled local rums and chatted happily, I sat at the bar, wishing my wife had accompanied me on this trip when, two stools away, a patron called out, “Hey, Chicago!”
“Yes?” I replied.
“Dave from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin,” he said. Gesturing to the woman beside him, he added, “My wife.”
Dave did mention his wife by name; unfortunately, I forgot it moments after the introduction. Cayman rum has that effect.
I chatted with the couple for more than 90 minutes, covering topics ranging from Wisconsin winters to the challenges of raising an only child, in this case their son. Thanks to my Cubs cap, it was a wonderful day.
My most intimidating cap bears the Central Intelligence Association logo. I received it last fall after performing for an audience of CIA technology employees at their headquarters in Langley, Va. Yes, even America’s covert intelligence community needs to laugh now and then. I was wearing it in the Miami airport when I noticed several fellow passengers whispering to themselves while shooting me occasional glances. Eventually, one spoke.
“So, what’s REALLY in the Mueller report?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Mueller report,” he said. Pointing to my cap, he added, “You guys must know.”
“We weren’t in charge of that investigation,” I replied. “But from what I hear, it’s pretty juicy.”
“Jared, right? Jared’s going down?”
“I’ve said too much already,” I replied. Then, glancing at my phone, I added, “Excuse me. Headquarters calling.”
Sometimes it’s just fun to mess with people.
This week I’m packing my bags again, for Raleigh, N.C. I own a NASCAR hat, but wearing that could backfire, as I’m flying straight into the heart of racing country and know nothing about the sport, which could get you hurt in North Carolina. Better to wear something more neutral.
I tossed an Ace Hardware cap into my carry-on. If you live in Raleigh and see a middle-aged man in one, feel free to say hello.
Just don’t ask me anything about home repairs.
