The Jacket

Somewhere around last Thanksgiving, I found a great waist length ski jacket. It was by the designer Perry Ellis and was down. As well, it was well made and reversed from the black and forest green I usually wore to a complete solid forest green. The elastic gathers at the wrists and waist kept the wind out and the down help me remain toasty even at the minus-twenty mornings we have woken up to this winter. In a very short time that jacket has become as dependable and reliable as an old friend.

This morning I awoke to chilly temperatures of 26°F with a bit of wind. I could feel the chill on my chest. I immediately zipped the jacket up to my chin. Finding that somewhat restrictive, it was my first thought to pull the zipper a bit downward. The second I touched the head of the zipper, the pull tab fell off along with part of the piece that it was attached to. I tried carefully to hold the jagged remainder of the pull while yanking downward. Nothing. I could not get it to budge. It pulled upward about another half inch and froze there. At that point, it would not go up or down. I worked at trying to open the zipper for at least an hour and a half. I was starting to freak a little. Because I had pulled the thing up so far, it was impossible to wiggle my arms free and pull it over my head. I thought that if the jacket started to shrink, then there would have been the makings of a great The Twilight Zone episode. At any rate it did not shrink, but I still could not get out of the jacket.

As time wore on (pun intended), I asked a maintenance man if he could help. I thought that maybe he had pliers, which he did and other than make me fearful that he would slip and stab me with them, he had no luck with the zipper as well. He gripped the remaining piece of the pull thingy and tried to work it back and forth, but he got nowhere.

So, now I am sweating, a lot and not a lot. It has been over three hours since I originally zipped up “The Uniform of Death”. I was getting panicky and the jacket also felt warmer and also tighter. I was sitting struggling and hoping that I could get it to work. I was so freaked and frustrated that I was wondering if there was a patron saint for broken things or stuff that won’t work right. I could think of none. I kind of giggled when I thought that maybe St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things would intercede and help me find my mind. I was desperate. In addition, to the point in fact that I hearted that jacket and found it perfect for my needs, the weather was in transition. The next day there would be a high temperature in the mid-fifties and with the rain and chill, it might be half that warm during the night. The weather will probably rollercoaster for another week before we have temps in the mid-60’s during the day and high forties during the night. The jacket is the only one that I have to get me to real spring. I have a lined pullover anorak, which is okay as long as it doesn’t rain (the arms are not lined. With rain, I feel as if I am wearing nothing. I know “then I met a man with no jacket at all”. Nevertheless, at 4 ½ hours it became clear that my efforts were in vain, the jacket could not be saved.

I went back and found the maintenance man and asked if he could cut me out of the thing. But first, like superman exposing his S, I grabbed a fist full of jacket chest on each side and gave a great tug. Nothing. I then squinted and closed my left eye tightly (I don’t know why) as I listened to the metal scraping against metal sound get closer to my face. I heard the man say “okay, that should do it.” I was all sorts of sad and relieved as I removed the jacket. I thanked the man or I didn’t, I don’t remember. What I do remember is wadding the jacket up and tossing it in a nearby trash can.

“Friggin’ Monday” I shouted.