The Hat

While in Athens, I stopped at a shop. Under the bright and warm

Aegean sun I was in need of a hat, one brimmed suitably to protect

Me from harmful UV rays. I learned quickly that when shopping

In Greece, should you pick up an item of interest, you will imme-

diately be accosted by a sales person who attaches them self to

You like glue and will not let go until you have decided to buy.

(Greeks are consummate peddlers of the first degree.) I myself

Am of Greek heritage, but have been Americanized from birth.

My attitude towards sales are far more relaxed. High-pressure

Techniques are not part-and-parcel of my makeup. Anyway, I

Tried on a nifty, white, straw Panama. And the salesman sha-

dowing me was quick to comment, trying in his best English to

Be complimentary: “Oh, how wonderful! You look just like Al

Capone,” he said grinning from ear-to-ear. He could not have

Picked a worse comparison as I am tall and thin with lily-white

Skin and a full-blown reddish-tint beard. But I was amused and

Fortunately for both him and me, attracted to that particular hat.

Had he chosen Alexander the Great as a look-alike in his assess-

ment, I may have more than likely tended to agree. I could have

Then asked enthusiastically if by chance he happened to have any

Of those horse-hair-plumed Corinthian helmets in my size?

Chris Hanch 1-7-16