I still wear an N95 mask indoors and in large groups of people. This makes me somewhat conspicuous, which in turn makes me somewhat self-conscious. I live in a pretty red part of a purple state (as we say in American politics) in which such choices are regularly taken up in partisan politics. Thus, most trips outside the house feel ripe for confrontation, which probably makes me a little more sharp-elbowed even when nothing is afoot.

Recently, I went to our local farmers’ market on a Thursday afternoon.

(Yes, I know where I put the apostrophe. There are numerous farmers.) I happened to be wearing a Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tentet t-shirt – one of the more improbable pieces of cultural ephemera I own. Waiting in line to buy… I dunno, nectarines, let’s just say it was nectarines, the guy beside starts fixing his gaze on me out of the side of his eye.

Here we go, I was thinking. He wasn’t even hiding the side-eye at some point. He’s getting his soundbite ready. Something from a podcast. Probably about sheeple. Don’t lose your shit over this, Michael.

Guy: What is that? [looking at my shirt] Is that a movie?

Me: No, it’s a… a jazz group.

G: Oh, yeah? It’s like a… they sound like…

M: Hang on. [loads a video on phone]

[long pause, listening intently to crazy-ass music]

G: Man, that shit is FONKY.

M: Yeah?

G: Yeah, man. I’d sit down and listen to that.

M: …well alright, man.

G: You have a good one.

M: You too, bud.

Sometimes it’s good to find out you’re wrong. Tomorrow, I will try to be less quick to give up on the world.