The delegate from Vietnam was running late this morning, so after waiting several minutes past the typical departure time, the Romanian delegate gave him a call to see where he was. After hanging up, the Romanian delegate turned to the rest of the car and said, "He says he is around the corner. Which corner, I do not know, but it is round."

Moments later, the Vietnamese delegate screeched around a corner on the other end of the parking lot, terrifying a pair of RV-piloting retirees who were coming out of the fast food restaurant. They dropped their coffees and searched wildly for a shrub to throw themselves into for safety as he careened by them and flung his car into a parking spot.

The greatest test yet

There is a big event approaching in the hatwatch world. Not only is the one month hattiversary in a few days, but this afternoon there is an R&D progress meeting. This meeting is for the research staff to present current results to a group of heads of departments and higher-ups in the company. And it’s not an event to which one would wear a hat. The delegates from PRL, Vietnam, Libya and Caucasia-NCA are all sheduled to speak for 20-30 minutes, and everyone is dressed to impress—dress shirts and clean slacks. The delegate from Vietnam is even wearing his pants right-side-out for the occasion (and the PRL delegate is wearing a skirt).

Will the hat stay on? I do have to admit, the gray tweed is fairly distinguished and does not detract from the Libyan delegate’s natty ensemble. Does he have the panache to stick with his haberdashery when department heads and executives start filing in? We shall see.

Signs of trouble

The vortex is showing signs of destabilization, even in the presence of the protective hat. During a staff meeting this morning, when the hat was clearly visible and undisturbed, power went out several times. This power outage was localized to two rooms, one of which being the one where the Libyan delegate and his cap were located, sitting quietly at the end of the conference table, not drawing any attention. However, each time the lights went out, the Libyan delegate would flee the room, ostensibly to assist in resetting the breaker. This would not be suspicious but for the fact that other people left the room at the same time, for the same purpose, and returned without him. Was he off somewhere, offering appeasements to the trans-dimensional cranial vortex in an effort to save us all? And what does one offer to the vortex in one's head, in an effort to stave off destruction? So many unanswered questions.


The delegate from Vietnam, being blissfully unaware that his entire existence was at stake, made the same joke each time the lights went out—“Uh oh. Who not pay power bill?”

The Vietnamese delegate has had his sweater on backwards all day. How can you tell? It's a V-neck.

Incident report 2/19/2010

Driver: Vietnam

Occupants: Romania, PRL, Libya



Yesterday, a rather disgruntled man flew a Cessna into the Austin headquarters of the IRS. The delegate from Romania was displeased. “My tax return is there. They will not give me my money now.” He speculated on the background of the pilot (“Araahhhbian”), and when he was told the truth, he was shocked “He was Texan? No.” (The Romanian delegate has a very specific “no” of disbelief, a prolonged “Nuhhhhohhhhhhw.” This was a particularly long one, indicative of utter incredulity) “He could not be Texan. Texans, they only kill people who are guilty of crimes. They do not kill innocent people, and there was two bodies at IRS. One must be terrorist, but other is innocent person. No, it could not be Texan.” Unfortunately, the radio volume was high, and the delegate from PRL was unable to hear the rest of the conversation between the Vietnamese and Romanian delegates from the back seat. It’s very likely that the Romanian delegate found some way that the blame for the whole thing lays squarely on president Obama.

Week 3: Haturnalia

The third week of the hat's presence is underway, and on its 17th day of silent mystery, no one has yet uncovered the reason for its omnipresence. The hat does not seem to be any worse for the constant wear, which may be due to the rejuvenating properties of the cranial vortex. The delegate from Libya does look surprisingly young for a man of his age (which, incidentally is not precisely known. Vagaries of a developing country in the 1950s and all that), and this youthful visage may be due to the transdimensional vortex in his head. Perhaps it has the ability to slow time. No wonder he doesn't want the rest of the world to see.

Oh, the mystery of his covered scalp!

Snow day!

The United Nations of Carpool experienced that rare event last week--a Texas snowstorm. But not just any snow storm, no, this was the biggest storm in recorded local history. Over a foot of snow in some areas, and no snowplows or salt trucks to be had. But this is not the place to chronicle the exploits of Texans in the snow. The excuse that they have no experience in it is a valid one. So we won't mock them for their unnecessary slowness, or their ability to careen off the road on a clear, straight stretch of highway. There’s no sport in ridiculing people going 15 mph in a 4WD truck on a mostly clear highway, and it’s probably for the better that a few of them somehow managed to throw their vehicles off the road with such force that they came to rest dozens of yards away, perpendicular to a long, clear, straight stretch of roadway. Those people, with their preternatural collision skills, are a menace to everyone else, and their spectacular accidents are evidence of Darwinian driving skill selection at work. After parking the Civic in a shrubbery after sliding across 4 lanes of traffic, that driver will vow never to attempt to go anywhere in the snow, ever again, thus sparing the lives and lawns of many people over the years.
Additionally, the Texans are handicapped by the utter lack of snow-clearing equipment. Since this never happens, there are no plows or salt trucks, which veteran snow drivers take for granted. It’s not only the inability to drive in adverse conditions; it’s the inability to deal with those adverse conditions on a municipal level that makes it so difficult. What would be a manageable and unremarkable 4 inch snowfall is magnified into wholesale debacle by the inability to move any of it off the roadways.
So there will be no mocking of Texans in the snow. They are hilarious enough without my commentary.
The Texans, their skills lay elsewhere.

The delegate from PRL cannot describe the UNC on the day of the storm, as she drove by herself. However, the delegate from Caucasia-NCA and the local envoy joined her in a snowball fight during lunch that day.

The local envoy, being local, and not living during the previous record snowstorm (a paltry 7.8 inches in 1964), had never been sledding before. This travesty was rectified with a cardboard box, industrial plastic sheeting (and very wet pants):

This was capped off by a terribly mature architectural endeavor:

(For the record, a truck this size has zero trouble plowing through several hundred pounds of misshapen snowmen)

The next morning, the UNC arrived at work on time to find that very few others had done the same, and that the roadways and parking lots were under a foot of unplowed snow. The PRL delegate had been scheduled to drive, which was not the greatest choice, given the circumstances, but the carpool matrix must be obeyed, and the little Saturn bravely soldiered on.

For your own reference, if you are driving a small sedan through the snow, and a man whose provenance is a country that consists mostly of the Sahara Desert tries to give you instructions on how to maneuver on ground that is simultaneously muddy and covered in snow, trust your instincts and DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM. He does not know what he is talking about. However, it is satisfying to make such a person get out and push when his advice leads to being mired in the snow mud. Not that this delegate would know.

Day 12.

The hat of mystery is still in place. There is some speculation that the record-smashing snowfall that occurred yesterday was due to a minor shift in the position of the hat, causing a temporal shift that brought unheard-of quantities of snow down on the North Texas region. It serves as a warning to anyone who would dare disturb the mystifying headwear—a larger change in position could bring even stranger weather—no one wants to live through a rain of placentas, or fiberglass tornadoes.

Week 2: Hatagonia

The presence of the hat has begun its second week. In most situations, it remains unmentioned, as if the sudden appearance and persistence of headwear is commonplace and not in the least bit unexpected.
Like the gauchos in Argentina, riding their horses across the plains, the cap remains. Steadfast. Unapologetic. Masculine. Stoic. Fuzzy. This is indeed Hatagonia.

The hatwatch continues: Day 5

The delegate from Libya is taking very seriously the responsibility for protecting the world from his noggin-vortex. His superior intellect will provide shelter for all of the lesser humans who surround him. The tweed is still in place, and there have been no reports of dimensional disturbances in the area (rumors of a two-headed squid-kitten born nearby are unsubstantiated).

Hatwatch, day 4.

What is going on under there?

Even if some overzealous NASCAR fan had shaved an 8 and some sweet stripes in there, all he had to do was shave it all off. It takes like what, 6 days for a men's haircut to grow out again? The delegate from Libya has never struck me as the vain type. This must go beyond a simple bad haircut.

Before:

File photo of his former, lustrous locks.

Perhaps, underneath the cap, his pate is as shiny as Yul Brenner or Mr. Clean?

(artist's rendition. Please note gleam of shininess)

Or maybe he is hiding a nest of snakes?

Or even worse, a trans-dimensional vortex?

That tweed cap maybe the only thing protecting us from certain doom.

Hatwatch, day 3.

It's still there. It must be a truly terrible haircut under there.

#1 tip for winter comfort: never shower.

The recent spate of cold weather has inspired the delegate from Vietnam to start taking cues on staying warm from those experts, the local homeless population.

He has acquired a comically oversized plaid barn jacket, which combined with his decade-old knit cap, baggy trousers and gloves with the fingers cut out of them, gives him a general air of indigence. Add to that look his shuffling, hunched gait, his frequently near-unintelligible accent, his clumsiness and tendency to stare off into space while mumbling to himself, and it’s very possible that if he forgets where he left his car, he could be picked up for vagrancy while wandering the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Incident report 2/1/2010

The delegate from Libya arrived at the meeting point this morning wearing a new driving cap. He has not yet taken it off, despite being indoors for almost 6 hours. As he is not one prone to dramatic displays of fashion, it is suspected that he is the recent recipient of a bad haircut.

He has only been through 20 winters here.

Even though the United Nations of Carpool has its headquarters in Texas, it does sometimes get chilly. The past week, for example, has seen temperatures as low as 25°F, which on the Texas temperature scale rates as “sweet jeesus, we're all going to die.”

So it has been cold lately, and the UNC has been treated to chilly seats when getting in the car on the way home every day.

Immediately upon getting into any car whose cabin temperature is below 65°F, the delegate from Vietnam will invariably tell the driver ”It cold in here. Turn on heat.” while turning the fan to high, blasting the front seat occupants with frigid air. Someone, typically the Caucasia-NCA delegate, will then explain that the heat can’t come on until the engine heats up. To this, the delegate from Vietnam will always reply ”I know. Turn on heat. It cold in here.”

This happens every single day.