rosa_acicularis | it's not easy being green

This afternoon as I waited in line at the pizza parlor the man behind me suddenly reached around and tapped the man in front of me on the shoulder. "You know," he said, "I think we're wearing the same shirt."

And they were. Each man, the first in his twenties, the second on the far side of middle age, was wearing the same hideous green plaid shirt. I, of course, burst out laughing. Perhaps encouraged by my enthusiasm, they delved further into this remarkable coincidence:

First Dude: Where'd you get yours?

Older Gentleman: Erm...Fred Meyer? [Transcribers note: Oregon's answer to Wal Mart, only less evil]

First Dude: Man, that is crazy. I bought mine at Goodwill. In Minnesota. St. Cloud, Minnesota.

Older Gentleman: That's nice.

First Dude: I mean, that's amazing. What are the odds?

Me: Fairly good, actually, considering the fact that he probably bought his at a major chain. I bet hundreds of thousands of men all across the country who have no idea how to dress themselves own that shirt. And judging by the kiwi-esque pastel shade of green, I'd date it about 1996-97. Maybe '98, but that's pushing it. More than enough time for this nice gentlemen to buy it, forget he owned it, and then dig it out from the recesses of his closet when he ran out of warm weather clothing three days into our current heatwave. As for yours, it rarely gets above the low eighties in St. Cloud even in the dog days of summer, so it was probably sitting in that Goodwill for some time before you picked it up on your last trip home to visit your parents. Nice accent, by the way.

*there is the distant sound of crickets chirping*

First Dude: But really, man. Weird coincidence.

Older Gentleman: Two slices of pepperoni, please.

I relayed this conversation to my dear mother, and her response was: "That's a funny story, honey. Was the young man attractive?"