Some things never change and diners are one of them. This diner was the same as the ones I had frequented in the years before World War II. Not much was different; the wait staff was exclusively female and wore uniforms. They spoke a jargon that hadn't changed much in the intervening decades. There were a couple of seasoned servers in their thirties or forties and a couple of much younger women. That put me in mind of Samantha, she was probably four years older than I was and I had a tremendous crush on her. I ate lunch in the diner every day when I worked at the bindery a few doors down. She was an oasis in a desert of faceless men who only spoke to close friends and she always had a kind word.
When Pearl Harbor was attacked, I signed up and at my last lunch at the diner, I stood up, put a sawbuck on the counter and gave her a big kiss. I told her I was headed for Ft. Benning in Georgia. I turned to head out the door and she caught me on the sidewalk and gave me a proper kiss. She wished me good luck and ran back inside. It was after all, December in Denver and she wasn't dressed for it. I strolled around for the rest of the day as if it was a sunny spring day.
I did pretty well after basic; I applied for Army Air Corps training and made it all the way through. I managed that without any finagling from Messengers.
I made it almost all the way through the European Theater and managed to fulfill my duty without being killed or wounded. My target had developed a bad habit of picking up souvenirs to ship home. He was about to roll over a German officer to get his pistol and belt, I grabbed him and yanked him back. Being a first sergeant, I had already chewed him out about his hobby. I tied a rope to the officer’s belt, retreated behind cover and pulled. Boom, a mine we called a "Bouncing Betty" popped up in the air and exploded. That was enough to straighten him out and he gave up the souvenir hobby.
I was feeling pretty good and then one morning I was checking out a small detached house that was at the edge of a village. I had just shot a German soldier; I can still feel the Thompson bucking in my arms. There's something that guys who play computer war games don't experience, when you shoot someone they lose control of their bowels and the smell of blood and shit and decomposing flesh is something you never forget. I wonder if they had to experience everything that goes with warfare, would they be so keen to play at it.
My squad approached the house, the upstairs team reported it was clear while I stood in the kitchen covering the stairs.
I could smell rotten food and portions of a dead animal in the corner. With all the rubble on the floor, I apparently missed a trap door. I turned when I heard more of our guys approaching and caught a flash of movement as a muzzle extended from the now raised trap door and everything went black and I ended up back at the Nexxus.
Chase and I took seats at the counter even though there were tables available.
"Well, what a couple of handsome young men we have here. Donna take a look at these two," one lady said.
"Are you two single?" asked a second one called Lisa.
"Sorry Toots, we're seminary students and we're not allowed to date," I remarked, smiling.
"This one's quick,” Donna said over her shoulder.
"What are you drinking, boys?" Donna asked.
"I'd like some hot chocolate and hot tea with my meal," I chirped.
"Same here," Chase added.
"You got it boys, take a look at the menu and decide what you want, I'll be right back with that hot chocolate."
"Toots?!" Chase whispered to me, "Where did you come up with that?"
"I don't know, I read a lot of old detective stories and gumshoes practically live in diner's," I answered.
I ordered the lumberjack special; every diner has one even if there isn't a tree around for a thousand miles. I asked to get more bacon instead of the ham slice and then it was Chase's turn. He ordered biscuits and gravy and we sat back and waited. We watched people come and go in the mirror; most of them did a double take at the two boys seated at the counter. Was it that rare in this area?
"Hey Chase, don't kids around here go to restaurants around here? People look at us like we're aliens."
"Usually not by themselves. And when they do they go to Denny's or someplace like that, not to a diner in the industrial district."
We were interrupted by the arrival of our food. It was good and filling and I paid the bill and left a nice tip.
Chase and I walked back to the bus stop and on the way, we were accosted by what I thought initially to be a homeless guy.
"What are you guys doing around here on your own?” he inquired, as he placed his hand on my upper arm. I put my left hand over his and smiled. I reached in to my pocket and pulled out a couple of ones. To the man I said, "Relax detective, we're in no danger," and I fogged his mind just a bit. I handed him the two dollars and said good luck in a cheerful voice.
"What was that all about?" asked Chase "What did you say to him?"
"Not much, I told him we were fine and handed him a couple of dollars.
Our timing was still holding and the bus rolled up shortly after we reached the stop.
"Where to next?" I asked Chase.
"That's up to you, there's the Space Needle and also Pike Place Market. The Needle looks best from one of the sight-seeing boats, there's nothing to see at the base of it."
"The Aquarium is really cool, especially the otters."
"Well, let's do the market, I did a little nosing around on the computer and there's a couple of shops close to the market I'd like to see," I told him.
"Sounds good."
I looked around and aside from a woman up front and the bus driver, there wasn't anyone else riding.
"Let's practice that song, you've already got it, we just need a little polish."
We sang and blended and worked on harmonies. No one yelled for us to shut up! We finished the second run-through and the lady came to the back door.
"I missed my stop because of you two, but it was worth it. You sounded so nice." Then she stepped off the bus and walked south.
When we stepped off the bus, the driver waved and wished us a nice day.
Pike Place Market was practically sterile. All the shops I remembered from a trip here in the nineteen sixties were gone as were all the weird people that had made the place so special. There wasn't much I remembered, all the maze of hallways and stairs were still there but they were well lit and brightly painted. Little art shops and places selling crappy jewelry had taken the place of curio shops that sold Fez and Turkish daggers and other strange décor. The two old bookshops were gone, replaced by comic books in vinyl sleeves. This must be what my dad feels when he talks about old Santa Barbara.
There was one upside, when we came up from the shops the street musicians were in full swing. Towards the rear, there was a man with a viola in a little pouch at his waist so he could play it like a cello. He was playing the Cello suite in D. Closer to the main entrance, an Irish band was being very entertaining with a well-polished patter and antics designed to draw in the crowd.
We exhausted the possibilities there and went in search of a couple of shops I had found on the web. Then we entered an older building on a steep incline.
"How can we help you?” the man behind the counter inquired.
"I need to replace these; they're getting a bit small."
"Oh, have a seat then and unlace, we'll see what you need." The man’s tone had changed once he realized we weren't just looking for a toilet.
"Those are sturdy shoes, and well cared for. Most youngsters wear nothing but trainers of one kind or another," Lance explained.
"Well, not me. I like a good leather shoe for walking."
"There's really nothing better as far as I'm concerned," Lance intoned. "Let's have you stand on the gauge and get a size."
"I'd like something similar, but mostly they need to fit."
"I think we might have something you'll like, you're on your way to a nine- and-a-half, so let me go check."
Lance returned with two boxes, one large and one small. He handed me a pair of cordovan oxfords that looked very nice and nearly new. I tried them on and they were made for me. I strolled around the shop and they hugged my feet as if they loved me.
What do I owe you, Lance?
"They're listed at $75.00 but I can knock of a little, say $65.00?"
"Done," I said.
Lance looked shocked, "Um… cash?"
"Absolutely, but what was the second box about?"
"Oh I nearly forgot, I thought they would fit you and that you might like them since you appreciate fine footwear from a bygone age."
He handed me a pair of boots that would go almost to my knee. These were vintage and carried the Abercrombie and Fitch stamp in the leather. They were supple and in great shape and obviously lightly used. I had to try them and they fit as if made with me in mind. They felt wonderful on my calves and everywhere else.
"I think I saw a photo of Teddy Roosevelt wearing a pair of these. Do I want to know how much?"
"You might be surprised, we've had them forever and they never fit anyone who wanted them. We're looking for $150.00 but we'll make you a package deal, say $200.00 for both pair?"
"I think I can do that, and I'll still have enough to buy another hat."
"What sort of hat are you after?" Lance asked, raising one eyebrow.
"A good quality fedora, vintage Stetson, something like that."
"Oh, you want Wilton's, um… which pair will you wear out of here?"
"I guess the boots since they're already on and the shoes will be easier to carry."
"Excellent, I'll get these ready to go. Do you want a box or bundles?"
"Bundles would be best; we still have some things to do."
"Bundles it is, I'll call Tom at Wilton's and make sure he doesn't go for a long lunch."
"Thanks, Lance."
"Did you just spend two hundred bucks on used shoes?" asked Chase.
Yes, hey what size do you wear?"
"Nine, why?"
"Wait here."
I found Lance still talking to the other shop.
I snatched my old shoes and took them back to Chase.
"Try these on; you won't believe how comfortable they are."
Chase shrugged his shoulders and sat down; he stood up again and walked around a bit in my old oxfords.
"These feel great, I don't believe it."
"They're yours, let's have Lance wrap up your Nikes and we'll get over and get me a hat, I feel naked without a hat."
I walked back with Chase's Nikes and Lance wrapped them and put them in a sturdy shopping bag. It happened to be a Marks and Spencer bag, all the way from London.
I thanked Lance and he assured me that Tom would be able to help me with my headwear needs.
We labored up to the crest of the hill and caught sight of a man wearing pale pink slacks, a white suit coat and a white Panama hat. Once we got close, I discovered his shirt was pale blue silk and he wore a trout novelty tie.
"You must be Tom, Lance said we'd find you here."
"And he was right, here I am. He says you are in the market for a good hat."
"Yes Sir, I am."
"Call me Tom, please. What may I call you?"
"I'm Étienne and this is my friend, Chase. He's been showing me the city. I did a little research on my own and found the vintage leather store and I saw your business as well. It was nice of Lance to make sure you'd be in."
"Yes it was, I have to tell you that you are by far the youngest customer I've ever had in my shop. But that's more to do with current fashion than anything else."
"I see you carry vintage clothing as well."
"Yes, I'm my own best customer there."
"Well I'm sure Lance told you I'm looking for a sturdy, high quality hat; I like Stetson brand, but Cavanaugh and Penman are excellent makers."
"None of my business, but why does a boy your age want a fedora?"
"Well, if it was just about a fedora I could get a modern one, but they smell horrible, it's like they use glycol or something in the curing of the felt. My old Stetson only ever smelled like me. As for why I wear one, it keeps the sun off my ears and neck and a good one can survive getting wet without losing its shape and the good ones breathe properly."
"Plus, I'll bet it looks good on you," Tom added.
"If I'm lucky, yes."
"What about you young man, Chase wasn't it?"
"Yes, that's me. I wear either a straw hat or a soft brim at school. When school’s out, I don't wear a hat at all."
"I understand. So Étienne, let's measure your head and then see what's available."
"That sounds like a plan," I agreed.
"Oh good, you mentioned a Penman, and we have one that is your size and it has an insert so you have room to grow."
Tom brought over a nice looking hat with good sharp creases, even at forty years old the hat looked new.
"Let me guess, down in front and up in back or down at both ends?"
"On hot days both ends down," I answered.
"Well this is such a fine hat, it will do both and hold either shape."
"It feels good, and I like the color and the look."
"Let's try this Stetson, it's a little softer but it's very comfortable. It's meant for dress wear."
"I see what you mean, let's try the next one."
"Here's another Stetson, but it's a sturdy old boy and it does have a stain, but it's on the brim near the crown and you wouldn't notice if I didn't tell you."
I put it on and it felt right. I looked in the mirror and it was proportionately perfect for me. I was sold.
"I think we found a winner Tom, I like the Penman, but its crown is too tall for me, but this one fits and looks good."
"I had a feeling you'd go for that one; it also has an insert, so again, room to grow. So now the bad news, the tourist price is three bills, however you're not a tourist so what do you say to two bills?"
"Cash out the door? You're on," I said.
"Done, I presume you'll want to wear it home."
"I passed him the cash and said, "Yes, I need to get used to it."
"So, how did you come to wear the fedora, were you inspired by literature or something else?" Tom asked.
"My dad bought me one on a camping trip after my cousin lost my boonie hat out the window. I've never worn anything else since."
"Are you ready to hit the Aquarium, Chase?"
"Sure, I'm ready."
I shook Tom's hand and thanked him for taking me seriously.
"It was obvious you knew about hats, and that's all I need. Age doesn't come into it."
We said our goodbyes and set out towards Elliot Bay.