The man in the enormous hat
Two vignettes à la Eddie Shleyner
The first time I crossed paths with the man in the enormous hat, I wrote about it on LinkedIn.
I kept my sentences tight. Did my best to show more than tell, just like Eddie Shleyner taught me.
Here’s what I wrote:
“Are you waiting for a table?”
I was sitting at a tiny two-top. He was lingering by the door, coffee in hand. A tote strap slipped off his shoulder. His hat was enormous.
He smiled and nodded. He seemed friendly.
“You’re welcome to join me, if you don’t mind sharing,” I said.
“Really? That’s so nice,” he said. He stepped toward me as I moved my bag, pulled my laptop toward me. “You’re sure?”
“As long as you don’t do anything weird, I’m sure,” I joked. “What’s your name?”
He told me his name. I told him mine. We shook hands and quietly co-worked for a while.
When another table opened up, he thanked me and changed seats. I left shortly after.
Neither of us said goodbye.
I thought that was that. A friendly encounter with a stranger in a busy coffee shop. One of those moments that feels uniquely New York.
But then I saw him again—without the hat.
I knew instantly I was going to write about it.
It happened in the locker room.
I glanced up from the floor. He was watching my reflection. Our eyes locked.
“Hey!” he said. Friendly, like before.
“Where’s the hat?” I asked. His bald head wrinkled when he smiled.
He turned to face me. We shook hands. His workout gloves were rough on my palm.
“Just getting started?”
He nodded. “You?”
My shirt stuck wet to my belly. “Just heading out.”
After another minute of small talk, we said our goodbyes. He waved as he walked away.
I couldn’t remember his name.
Who knows if I’ll run into the man in the enormous hat again, but if I do, I’ll probably write about it. Subscribe so you don’t miss the next vignette in this unexpected series.
Did you enjoy this piece? Let me know in the comments.
Until next time,
Dylan
Getting to read your work is a gift. Keep going!!