I have a retro tee shirt, with a smiling Jamaican DJ, powder blue, with three simple words etched onto the front: Happiness is Diggity. Don’t ask me how I got it, I don’t remember. I probably found it at a Goodwill on the cheap, like most of the keepers in my wardrobe.
Downtown Waikiki one night last year, I was strolling around with my friends, admiring the antics of the street vendors, embracing the environment of endless possibilities in liquid form. Normal Friday activity for the single junior officers in the Cavalry, you know. Anyways, this old Hawaiian woman came up to me out of nowhere. She was all bones and cigarette smoke, waving a finger in my face, and jabbed at my chest with her other hand.
“You,” she says. “You! That is the new American Dream, isn’t it?” She was pointing at my retro tee shirt with the smiling Jamaican DJ.
I swear, I didn’t blink an eye before I responded. “Naw, lady. It’s the oldest one there is. The only one, in fact.” And then I kept walking, leaving her dumbstruck with her bones and her cigarette smoke and her small jar she used to pander for change.
I can be slightly profound, apparently, when the right mixture of freedom, Guinness, and slapdash blend together into a Smoothie of Insight. LT Demolition ran back and gave the lady five dollars, just in case she wasn’t as impressed by my verbal gift as we had been.