Polo Jacket

 

“Do you know anyone who wants a Polo Jacket?” He thrusts a bright blue puffy jacket up into the air, toward me. His partner is silent, her heavily masked head making no acknowledgment of his offer or my presence.

            I’d seen the pair of them up ahead, meandering down the center of 31^st street, dressed in black. Oh, shit, I’d thought to myself. More interactions with strange people.  Am I biased at this point? You bet I am! All I seem to encounter lately on my pandemic pacings are strange people. And these two, him with the Polo Jacket offering, and her with her detached aspect, swinging an old-fashioned black purse at her side, her bright white socks in her sandals the only lightness, are no exception.

When I spied them, I thought not only were they strange, but there was really no way to avoid them. Sure, I could have turned around and marched back down the street, but frankly, this gets so tiresome. Avoiding people. I mean, I already have to avoid everyone cuz of the pandemic, crossing the street, maintaining that social distance. Do I really want to heighten this avoidance?        

Besides, it’s a story.

Back to the Polo Jacket. What is a Polo Jacket even? Something you wear when playing polo? And who plays polo in Richmond? Isn’t it one of those upper-class British sports where they ride around on horses on lush green lawns with a stick and a ball? Like hockey for rich people?

Or am I, as usual, just being too literal? Maybe it’s just called a polo jacket and it has nothing to do with polo at all.

Or maybe he’s just got the name wrong?

Or who cares what it’s called?

Yet, the name adds to the weirdness of the exchange. He didn’t just show me the jacket and ask if I needed a coat? No, he was very specific. Did I know anyone who needed a Polo Jacket.

Well, I don’t. And I told him so.

He continued to amble toward me with his offering. But he was moving slowly. I quickly marched past the two of them, wishing them a good rest of the day. They continued on down the middle of the street. No following here. And I think to myself, where did the jacket come from? Did he find it on the street? (It had that look to it.) Or was he cleaning out his closet and didn’t want to make a trip to the Goodwill? And, was he giving it away or selling it?

So many questions that I’ll never have the answer to. Yet as I walk on, the morning too bright with sun and heat for December, I think to myself, they have a day ahead of them. Wandering the streets of Richmond trying to pawn off a Polo Jacket.

My life is such a breeze compared to this, right? I have a house with a cat and many jobs and friends and family that even though I’m relegated to seeing them on ZOOM, I’m grateful to have. Not to say that this pair didn’t have all of this, too. I can’t make that assumption that they don’t even though they’re wandering down the street with a polo jacket mission.

I turn the corner at McBryde, admiring the bright yellow Ginkgo tree booming, its leaves still on its branches, its light still intact. 

Thinking about the day ahead, I breathe in the too dry air. Today is another day, another one with the pandemic raging and the pools closed. But at least I’m not wandering the streets of Richmond with a Polo Jacket offering.

Though when I think about it, since I’m always so cold, maybe I do need one.

A neighbor is rolling out his garbage bins; he doesn’t notice me. What a relief, I think as I continue down 32^nd street, the sun on my back and the breeze in my hair.