Monday, July 05, 2010

Vale Monty the Hat, 2005-2010

Yesterday, I lost my favorite hat. While changing from hat to helmet out the front of Bridie's in Brunswick, I put Monty somewhere, obviously not in my bag, and rode off into the sunset. 30 minutes and 10 kilometers later, whilst eating my dinner in a delightful restaurant, I realised Monty was gone. I checked my bag once, twice, and later, thrice, but alas, no sign of Monty. Nor Mark Latham.

Monty was a faithful hat and so much more. He was a friend, my greatest confidant, and erstwhile traveling companion. I first met Monty after a long search to replace his predecessor (Monty II), whom I foolishly left on a BA flight somewhere in Austria in 2005. It was a terrible flight. It was delayed two hours because someone vomited on a seat. Instead of being informed of this before trying to board the aircraft, we were told only when we were in the airgate. Two long, long hours with 30 strangers in a freezing airport appendage, and one single copy of the daily mail to share amongst us. This was the fateful day Monty II would be lost, and the hunt for Monty the latter would begin.

And similar in tone was Monty's final day upon my scalp. He came with me as I visited a pub I intensely dislike, kept me company while I drank pint after pint of terrible domestic beer - and at what price will I lose my standards? $5 a pint, apparently - and even stayed by my side during a set of what can only be described as Kew's finest rap quintet, who regaled us with fascinating tales of dealing with terrible associates who waste their lives stealing drinks from Liquorland, and other varied songs about the life threatening dangers of walking the mean streets of Melbourne.

I couldn't agree more. Melbourne is fucking terrible. Just last week, I was riding my bike along, and I was assaulted by a dastardly rain drop and icy cold wind, but somehow I get the feeling we're on different pages with that one. Either way, don't let me tell you that they weren't tough motherfuckers. And Monty's last ride; he was there, he protected me from it all.

So, now the search begins for a new Monty, a wonderful new cap that will wear well and be as hardy and strong of character as Monty II and Monty were. I'm sure I will soon find him in my travels, but in the meantime, anyone with suggestions of where to find a good, rugged, short peaked black cap (I am open to minor decoration, such as pinstripes and other such low key fancies), please let me know.

Goodbye, Monty, my dear friend. You will not be forgotten.

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