The Quest For Otis

I am an idiot.

Nicknames–especially those we give ourselves–mean nothing. They are quick pseudonyms that are only used to hide the fact you don’t know someone’s real name….or you don’t like the name they carry around. In college, we had one too many Mark’s. We started calling one Monk. I’d still call him that if I had any idea where he was.

I have written countless times about my useless collection of unused nicknames…OG, Otis, etc. Only a few people use them and they do it more to humor me than anything else. And yet…I am on a quest…and I am an idiot.

Three times a day, I hop on Ebay and run a search for Otis Elevator. Not because I want an elevator, or a an old company stock certificate, or a brass control plate from a 1920’s era elevator (those are the things I usually find). I want an Otis Elevator uniform shirt. The green kind with a big, square OTIS patch on the breast. And that makes me an idiot.

I would probably wear the shirt once…maybe at LEAF. It would end up in mothballs with my Antlers NIGHTTRAIN jersey, my ACE Kinky Jalapeno jersey, and all those stupid t-shirts I bought at Dead shows just before Jerry died.

I have gone to silly lengths to find such a shirt. I actually wrote the Otis Elevator company and asked if I could buy one. A customer service rep politely informed me that due to security concerns for their customers, they don’t sell company uniforms to strange men who use vaguely anonymous e-mails to request secure material. My friend Tjake actually got my started on the quest by trying to buy the uniform shirt off a guy at the airport. He was rebuffed as well.

And now…I am so desperate…I’m actually kicking myself for not paying the 16 bucks for the shirt I saw on Ebay a month ago. I thought–oh so naively!–that people would be selling them by the truckload on Ebay. Nada. Now, I see the occasional denim shirt with the Otis company logo on it (an ugly spinning globe-looking thing) and that’s about it. That’s not what I want. I want the green shirt with the big OTIS patch on it.

I am an idiot.

I find myself wondering if I am not trying to avoid some subconcious issue (maybe my dad really DIDN’T take me to the circus!) by focussing on odd and mundane quests. There must be something wrong with a grown man searching for a sense of false identity in the form of some guy’s used work shirt.

I’ve even considered looking for a bowling jersey or grease monkey work shirt with Otis on it, but I have decided that just won’t do.

I am an idiot.