A little story I’d like to share about this hat…
Last month, we took a trip to Belgium. While there, we sat down for a dinner at an Italian restaurant in Brugge’s Grote Markt. Not wanting to wear my hat indoors, I placed it on my knee when I sat down. Natasha asked me to switch seats, so I stood up and switched seats with her.
We ordered and the waiter brought out two plates of garlic bread. Tasha’s pasta was tasty, but my pizza was rock hard. They provided me with the pizza cutter to cut it myself. I managed two cuts before giving up and folded over the slices. Fortunately, the pizza had a good flavor.
After dinner, the waiter brought us the cheque when we discovered the garlic bread (two slices each from a loaf of French bread), which we had not ordered anyway, had actually cost us €5 each (quite the amazing markup on that). I knew they had us on that one.
The waiter took notice of our credit card and informed us that they did not accept credit cards. We looked at him in disbelief and Tasha said, “You’re in a tourist area, you must take credit cards, right?” to which the waiter replied, “We’re a small shop and we don’t have to accept them.”
I pulled every Euro left in my pocket, after a full day of exploration, to cover the €50 meal. We gathered our things, and left. (FYI, we spied a credit card machine and point of sale system upon exiting.) We slowly wound our way back through the city to the train station and waited for the next train back to Brussels to arrive. We boarded, stowed our things above our seats, and relaxed as the train started our journey home. That’s when it hit me…
Crap! Where’s my hat?!?!?
It had popped off my knee when we switched chairs and it’s lying under the table at the front of that restaurant. Oh well, I’ll have to buy a new one as there is no chance I’ll make it back to Brugge to inquire about it. And no way it would even be there if I managed to return. And no possibility they’d give it back to me even if they “had” it…
Fast forward to this weekend. I’m at the pub watching the Grand National Horse Race. I’m chatting with our friend, Jen, and discovered that her roommate, Jessie, was in Brugge.
Holy Cow! Here’s my chance to get my hat back!!!
Quickly, I message her roommate to see if she could possibly stop by and ask about my hat. It was a long shot, but I had to try.
<Crickets>
She hadn’t saved my number in her phone, so she didn’t know who was texting her.
Sunday morning, I awoke to a text saying it would be no problem to swing by and ask. Woohoo! She even posted a photo to Facebook of the Markt from her climb of the belfry showing the restaurant. I knew she was close. Sunday afternoon, while exploring London with Tasha, I get a text from Jessie stating she has my hat! I owe her a pint! Apparently, the waiter at the restaurant was a great help. Jessie gave it to Jen, who handed it to Tasha this afternoon, and we were united tonight!
Quite the improbable journey for a hat!