Invested

Well, I went and done it. For the first time in my life, I bought me a vest-style winter jacket. I vest now. I’m a vester. Might even join one of those vest gangs that go around terrorizing the populace. I’ve always wanted to be a vest guy, but all I could think of was Marty McFly from “Back to the Future” and that boy’s pink-cheeked wholesomeness just didn’t jibe with my hooligan lifestyle.

No sweat… er.

But don’t go getting the idea that I’m on my way to wearing colorful sweater vests everywhere I go, my friend. It’ll never happen. To me, sweater vests are only for men who can’t grow facial hair or change their own flat tires. But it occurs to me that the last time I said as much publicly, I got snarled at by three Sun Journal editors, a couple of whom were pretty huge. For the sake of my own personal safety, I’m going to retract the above statement and move on.

Where am I?

For the past two summers, I’ve hiked and backpacked all over the place. Baxter State Park, the White Mountains, the wilds of western Maine, you name it. But I hadn’t been lost a single time until last weekend when I went for a quick stroll at Mount Apatite in Auburn. I tell you, the trail network is so confusing at Mount Apatite that I was really starting to believe I was in one of those horror movies where the poor, handsome protagonist finds himself in an eternal time loop. Before I stumbled my way back to the parking lot by pure luck alone, I truly believed that my only hope of rescue would come from a St. Bernard with a barrel of brandy under its chin. And if you don’t get that reference, my culture-deprived friend, you need to watch more cartoons.

Fergie vs. Fergy

Holy moly. When I wrote about the return of the Fergy sandwich earlier in the week, I messed up and spelled it wrong about two dozen times. Fergie with an I-E instead of with a Y! I still shudder when thinking about it. Can you imagine what level of personal harm I’d have come to if a sharp-eyed editor hadn’t caught this grievous error? Fergy fans are pretty particular about everything that goes into the sandwich, and I imagine that extends to the spelling. The Fergy crowd is above tarring and feathering, I expect, but if that misspelling had gone into print, it’s a good bet I’d have been hammed and mayo’d and run out of town.

One leg at a time

Now that I’m fully immersed in the vest lifestyle, I want to go all in. Can somebody tell me what the pants equivalent of a vest is? I’ve been giving it some thought, and the best I can come up with is either a skort or a loin cloth. I’m up for either, mind you. I just want to make sure I’m doing things in proper vester style.