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Sartorial content

It's boiling hot now, not as hot as it's going to get, but still.

Last week, though, it was cool enough that I pulled a sweater on over my T-shirt when I went out. I have some shirts that I only wear inside, and this was one of them. It's a Border Patrol recruiting shirt which was given to me by a friend of ours back when he worked for INS. In fact, I forgot that this was the shirt I had on, until that evening when I walked into our regular, family-run Mexican restaurant, where it was kind of warm. I was thinking I'd peel off the sweater, then I remembered.

I whispered to Oz, "Ah! I can't take off my sweater, I have on that Border Patrol shirt."

Loudly, he said, "Oh, go ahead and take it off!"

"No!"

Some of the wait staff asked him what was up with that. He told them and then said to me, "Show them."

Fine. So when we're seated, I pull the front bit of my shirt out of the neck of my sweater, and show the Border Patrol logo to one of the waiters.

His eyes got really round. "That looks real."

"It is real."

He said, "You shouldn't wear that here. Everyone will run away."

"Right, we don't want that! We want our beer and dinner! Oz."

Later, when we were finishing up, the waiter came back and asked me if I was a Border Patrol agent. No, I explained, and how I got the shirt from someone who wasn't a Border Patrol agent either. So, okay? We are not la migra.