Scarves, scars, and other cracks in the façade

December of 2014 brought with it the usual air of excitement surrounding the holiday season. New Snapchat filters filled the internet and I, the same as every other Jewish child, got excited for 8 days of gifts and prepared for the inevitable disappointment surrounding dud gifts. The stigmas of Jewish people as wealthy aren't always true, nor are the ones about Jewish people being penny-pinching Europe ruiners, but there are of course a few cases proving every stereotype. One example that gets me down every year, are my insanely, two-houses-on-the-lake rich cousins from Texas. Now when I was younger, it wasn't such a big deal receiving a harmonica or nose flute or what have you. As I grew to appreciate the vastness of their fortune it dawned on me that every year I was being beguiled out of legitimate gifts. 2014 happened to be the year of my 16th birthday, and my rich cousins decided to take my parents on a cruise around the Galapagos Islands, on my birthday. Did I resent them? Not so much, but did I expect a nice present? You bet your ass I did. As the months got colder (by a few degrees, as they do in Florida), I received a package from the aforementioned cousins. I held off opening it for a few days but before long I couldn't wait, the anticipation was killing me. I opened the package and I held in my hands the materialization of disappointment: a hex key. A hex key is the kind of thing that comes with those "easy to assemble" IKEA furniture sets.
What does one do with a hex key? Nothing, there is absolutely no reason for a teenager to own one of these unless they tighten bolts for a living. The worst part was that the thing actually started to get loose and the only thing that could have tightened it was a hex key.

Now having opened what I had perceived to be the absolute worst present in the world I had high hopes for the rest of Hanukkah. However, irony loves a good laugh, and when my cousins came to my house I experience a second let down that rivaled the first in magnitude. Normally from this side of the family I'd expect maybe some books or a gift card, however, every now and then someone likes to think outside the box... or more accurately, inside the box from Sears, because clothes are the second most disappointing holiday gift, right after hex keys. I knew right as I held that flimsy cardboard box that I was going to have to put on a brave face and pretend to appreciate what I was given, but somehow I think everyone could see through me when I opened the box and inside was a single plaid scarf. Not once in my life had I ever longed for a scarf, especially because I live in the dead center of the hottest state in the whole God damned country. Not even December is cold here so getting me a scarf for Hanukkah seems less than pointless... like hex keys, which are pointless because they have no use, as well as are dull on the ends. I joke but writing this makes me cry inside. Anyway, snap back to the moment of receival, I held the scarf and put it on, pretending all the while as though it was the Bernie Sanders of gifts. Somehow, being the talented actor that I am, I convinced myself that I actually did like the scarf as I began wearing it more and more. I learned about 300 different ways to tie the scarf (that's a lie, more like 6), and I even showed it off in a classy Instagram selfie. Little did I know that what I trusted around my neck would later betray me in a classic Catiline fashion.

Allow me to set the scene: The rain is drizzling but the strong wind blowing makes it feel as though we are caught in a crazy Florida storm. My family and I are standing in the rocky streets of Charleston, SC. As we walk up and down streets, going wherever my mom want's to go (As per usual), Stephanie decides that the next thing we'll be doing as a family is going on a carriage ride through the historic district of Charleston. This requires that we head over to the barn where the horses are kept, the barn consequently smells like horse. Once we've paid about $20 per person to be dragged around by horses for 15 minutes, a man brings over a rolling set of stairs to help us get up on to the carriage. We begin our tour by visiting a local graveyard (Did you know? The term 'saved by the bell' was coined as a result of people being buried alive and ringing for help). Eventually we make it to the rich people district of the city, the part my mom wanted to see so she could gawk over imaginary scenarios of us living there. Meanwhile, I sat there next to my family on the edge of the carriage closest to the street. I wore jeans and a large coat that my mom made my grandpa buy me at Dillard's, and of course, my scarf. It hung limply around my neck and was tucked in to my coat pockets. All of a sudden the wind picked up and I shivered, it was a good thing I had my scarf and knew how to tie it. I yanked both ends of my scarf out of my pockets at the same time; suddenly I saw something flying by me out of the corner of my eye. I had an initial gut feeling about what it could have been but I prayed it wasn't what I thought. I hesitantly asked the carriage driver to stop for just a moment. I hopped off of the carriage to where I saw a small blue rectangle, my phone, lying face down on the rocky streets of Charleston. I picked it up off of the street and put it in my pocket without looking at it. I walked back to the carriage and pulled myself up to the applause of the other riders. I slowly pulled out my phone from my pocket, and saw to my dismay what looked like a huge spider web that had been hit by a few rounds of buck shot. I tried using my phone and immediately was impaled by shards of glass. That was the last time I wore that scarf and I haven't seen it for about six months now, let this serve as a warning to all of you who still believe in the magic of scarves.