The Vibe of Love

Here's a story I shared with HeatherJean (and I'm going to share in more detail here) that I totally forgot to tell her, until yesterday:

Back in December, I was in Las Vegas and I was lucky enough to catch the Beatles Love Circe De Soleil show.

All I can say...still say...Was that it was indescribable with mere words. It was Magic.

Anyway, I promised Heather that I'd get her a something from the show. And when I was leaving the show, through the pre-planned exit trough the Love gift shop (ah...Crafty bastards!), all I could think of was that she had to see this show. It would totally blow her mind. And I promised myself I would somehow, someday get her here to see it...But for now...

...I'd get her a shirt

So here I am, awash with Beatles coolass stuff from books to collectibles to artwork to instruments. And I start to sort trough the teeshirts. Some were okay, some were not. The I found...The perfect shirt. It was like hearing the purest note of a song. THIS...Was the shirt for Heather, my lil' hippy chick friend!

And then I realized something as I reached for a hanger: I don't know her size. I mean I know what she looks like, and I know her dimensions approximately, but now I have to get a shirt that would be her shirt. And it's not like a guy. With guy, it's always small/medium/large/x-large. If the guy is fat, x-large. If you can't remember, Large. It's that simple.

But women: Sizing someone up is like transversing a minefield. Get it too large, and she'll think I think she's fat. Get it too small, and she might think I think she's too fat, AND this is a huge hint for her to loose weight to fit into this shirt. And while a guy will wear an ill-fitting shirt, a woman has more pride in herself not to look like an oaf.

Good god, what do I do?

After staring at the shirt for about 15 minutes, I set out upon the sales floor and quietly looking for people the same basic shape as Heather. That one is too tall. That one is too short. I started looking for people with the same walk. The same head held high, and smile. I'd make a sudden noise just so they would turn about. I'd spend 45 minutes silently walking up to people and holding my hands apart to her approximate shoulder width. Then I'd just look annoyed at them when they didn't fit my projections.

I was starting to do mini interviews with some people who were the almost same size. I don't know why, but I had to ask them if they were a hippy chick as well. Of course being outside a Beatles show, they almost all were...

I guess a lone guy in Vegas dressed in burgandy shirt and tie walking around a store sizing up 5'1" women with his hands from behind isn't acceptable after 45 minutes. A shopgirl approached me, just a bit annoyed.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you?", She said

I put my hands down a little defeated. No one here was perfect. I rounded up a few people to pose with the shirt, and some came close, but the vibe wasnt quite there. "I was trying to buy a shirt for my friend, but I'm not sure of the size..."

"well, perhaps I can help you. What size is she?"

I put my hands back out where Heathers shoulders would be.

"oh...", I said, "And she's a hippy chick..." After I said that, I realized how uselessly stupid that was.

But she laughed and relaxed...and she sparked...And I then noticed she was 5'1"!

"Damn! COMEWITHME!!!" And I ran towards the shirts, twirled her about and placed a shirt on her back.

...Perfect...

And that's how I spent one evening in Las Vegas. Heather tells me she loves the shirt, and even more knowing some of the story. Tell me. Do I complicate things on purpose?

And I also got her a keychain. But that was easy.