Sebastien Wilcox

Pretty much every episode of Happy Days was a gem. Of course, I’m referring to the episodes that that took place before Fonzie jumped the shark in his leather jacket. After that stunt, Happy Days was never the same. After that stunt, Happy Days had jumped the shark.

Jumping the shark later became a pop culture phenomenon; the turning point where a show, a band, a dry cleaner starts going downhill. Oh yeah, I said dry cleaner.

Now I’m not going to mention any names, but Darrin’s Dry Cleaner on 4th Street across form James Joyce in Calgary recently jumped the shark.

I brought a golf shirt in and asked the lady if she could remove the stain. She said that she could. I said great when will it be ready? She said Tuesday. I said wow that’s fast. She said see you Thursday then. I said I thought you said Tuesday. She said If Tuesday makes you happy Thursday it is. Now I was confused and for some strange reason, I started hearing this little song in my head.

Sunday Monday Happy Days, Tuesday Wednesday Happy Days, Thursday Friday Happy Days, the weekend comes, my cycle hums, ready to race with you…

Defeated, I said alright see you later on. She said bye. I came back on Friday, you know, thinking I was playing it safe. After hearing the ding-aling of the door she said hi. I said I’m picking up my golf shirt. She said where’s your ticket. I said oh I lost it. She said what’s your name? I said Wilcox. She said how do you spell it? I said it’s WILCOX with one penis. She didn’t say anything. I waited until the awkwardness ended and said W-I-L-C-O-X. She turned on on the dry cleaning rotating thingie and got to the Ws. You shirt is not here she said. But you said it would be ready Tuesday or Thursday and this is Friday. She said your shirt is not ready come back tomorrow. I said tomorrow is Saturday you’re closed. She said come back Monday then. I said alright. I was half expecting a sorry, but much like Fonzie in practically every Happy Days episode, this woman couldn’t say sorry. And I pretty much guarantee that she couldn’t say she was wr- wr- wr- wr-wrong either.

Ding-aling, I came back on Monday and the woman said your golf shirt is not ready yet. I said why not? She said I’m having trouble removing the stain. I said but that’s why I’m paying you. She said you know what the stain is from? I said maybe it’s the blood of my last dry cleaner who asked too many stupid questions. She said I just heard your inner monologue. I said yeah whatever but in my head I added bitch to my sentence. She hands me a piece of paper and says here you go. I said what’s this? She said call next time before you come in to make sure your golf shirt is here. I said I’ll take that as an apology. She said take it as a piece of paper with a phone number on it. I said you just jumped the shark lady. She said okay bye.

It’s been a week. I’ve made two calls and another drop-by. My golf shirt still isn’t ready.

The moral of this post? Chachi looked like a knob with a bandana around his thigh.