Northport Yachting Club

I think going clothes shopping is one of my most difficult assignments, especially when it comes to T-shirts. Seinfeld does a bit about how, at a certain age, men just get bored or nonplussed with the whole charade and decide, I’m going to wear this for the rest of my life.

So often when you see older gents, you can almost determine which decade they decided, To hell with it, I’m just going to keep wearing these clothes from this era and be done with it.

There’s another funny bit about men wearing their underwear until the last bit of fabric remains, or at least until the elastic loosens to such a degree that you return home with your undies hanging nearly beneath your butt cheeks. OK, well, I added that last bit because it happened to me yesterday.

So the last time I went clothes shopping – arghhh! – I came across a ‘two for one’ bottom-of-the-barrel T-shirt deal. I snapped it up. I figured if they didn’t last after a few washes, at least I could turn them into shirt undergarments for my makeshift pyjamas. Sweet!

Anyway, the shirt you see above was one of the two I bought, and I’m relieved to say that despite a few loads, they’ve held up pretty well. Bargain!

The weird thing is, it was only this morning, when I laid it out to put on, that I actually read what was written on it – for the first time, at least from what I remember:

‘Northport — Yachting Club.’

Huh.

And I wondered if, by wearing it, people walking past me might think, Wow. Did you just see that guy who walked past? He’s in the Northport Yachting Club. That’s pretty neat, although he’s obviously not too fond of ironing.

I have a hard enough time spelling yacht, let alone being a member of a yachting club. Even trying to spell it here to begin this article, my immediate attempts were yaght, then yaut. Well, you get the drift – excuse the pun. I actually had to insert the image to get the spelling right.

Or perhaps people wise up to it, You know what? I reckon that guy’s full of shit and is brandishing something he has absolutely no claim to.

Also, Bogotá is so far away from the coast that you’d have to travel a full 24 hours before even getting within the vicinity of a yaghting… yauting… yachting club.

I remember my father wearing a cap that had Skipper written on it, along with some US Navy emblem. Same thing. People can pick up the scent of bullshit a mile off.

Anyway, these bizarre thoughts sometimes come to me and I find myself chuckling on the street. In any time previous, people might have thought, There goes another one for the looney bin.

Thankfully, because I have an earbud in to listen to music – I lost the other one – people can just think I’m responding to a conversation on hands-free. I’m hip. I’m down with it. The grey hair is just a cloak.

So I’m squeaky clean and can go on without a care in the world, just like people often do.

Oh, I have a call coming in.

It’s the Northport Yachting Club wondering when I’ll be needing my skiff.

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“The more I live, the more I learn. The more I learn, the more I realize, the less I know.”- Michel Legrand