My Shameful Jack Daniel's No 7 Hat

 

Several years ago on our drive from Nashville we detoured and went to Lynchburg, Tennessee, and toured the Jack Daniel’s Whiskey operation.  Yes, we did buy a bottle of product in the museum, which is a technical wiggle, because the county Lynchburg is in is dry.   We also bought a Jack Daniel ball cap.  I liked it, il was boldly black and white letters.

Back home, the first time I wore it was on my daily walk. I forgot exactly where I walked, I think it was probably a huge shabby vacant run-down shopping center that has since been bulldozed away and now in the rebuilding phase. 

I saw a tall unkempt man stagger from around a corner and we were coming towards each other.  The way he was staggering I was pretty sure he was drunk.

What would our interaction be?  Would we politely nod, speak, or what?  Would he beg some money?  Would he grab me?  We got shaking hands distance and he looked above my eyes, more than likely he was looking at me Jack Daniel’s ball cap.

He frowned and bitterly said, “Do you drink that shit?”

“Sometimes.” I replied.

I haven’t worn "that shit" since.