Harrington Jacket

So here I am driving down the highway in Brisbane, Australia; it’s a clear hot day in my hometown that I like to refer to as a big country town because it’s not big enough to ever not run into people. I’d just come from dropping off a young musician I was managing at the airport. I’m fairly knackered and looking forward to getting home and hanging out with my love. I’m quite happy with myself as I’m wearing this new Harrington jacket I’d just got. I was working in an office with a couple of record labels and one of the older sort of leaders of the group had set up for myself, him and couple of others to buy these jackets off a bloke who had imported only a few of them from the UK for select people. I felt really cool owning one, like I was part of the gang/club; these were all people I had a lot of respect for and looked up to.

As I’m driving along I head onto this new part of the highway that’d just been opened up, and I was almost a little bit excited about it. I love new things like this, for instance, once in the middle of the night I ended up going to this service station to fill up and as I walked in it felt like a movie, everything was perfect. I told the fella working and he let me know I was their first ever customer and I thought to myself, I’ll probably never see this again in my life, and I just love that sort of stuff. I find that just existing can just be so repetitive and grey most of the time.

So as I’m driving along there are hundreds of other cars, as you’d imagine, and way in the distance I see an older woman waving her arms frantically. I’m bewildered that no one had stopped, so I slow down and jump out. She’s in hysterics and speaks mostly Italian, but I manage to understand that her husband has had a heart attack in the driver's seat and unbelievably pulled the car somewhat into safety. He’s in a very bad way in the front. I call an ambulance and they immediately tell me to pull him from the car and lay him on the ground. He’s heavy, but I lay down my jacket and get him down. By this point he is blacked out; I’d never done CPR in my life, but they walk me through it on the phone. They’d sent an ambo, but the location isn’t reaching them properly due to the highway being new. I sent them a number marker that they have for these types of situations, but unfortunately it’d been moved from the old highway and they kept landing themselves there. At this point, another rather frantic man has pulled over and tried to help. We pumped his chest and the man on the ground came to life and shots a bunch of what can only be described as dark green goo out of his mouth.

I ask if he’s ok and he just grunts as if to say I’m alive. His wife looks so happy for a moment. Then, without warning, he has another heart attack and dies there in my arms on my jacket. Moments later, the ambulance arrives; I’d stepped away to sit on the guardrail feeling pretty numb and as if I’d been inserted into a really personal situation of a stranger and I wasn’t meant to be there. I do remember clearly one look from the woman wondering why I hadn’t left; I felt horrible. Sadly and almost stupidly, I'd thrown my keys into my jacket pocket before I’d had time to think when I’d laid him on it, so I was effectively stranded for the time being. They try the paddles on him like in the movies, but soon came to the conclusion that he is gone and put a sheet over him. After a time, the paramedic came over to me; she was very gentle but also encouraging me to leave and I proceeded to explain about the keys. We had a short chat and she checked on my state and had encouraged I talk to someone. She explained to me that they’d just flown in to see their first grandchild who’d just been born and just really felt for the Italian woman. I wished I could have done something more to help with the situation. The paramedic discreetly obtained my keys and I decided to let the Harrington go; I was never much for clubs anyway. I got in my car and unexpectedly bawled my eyes out. I called my wife and it felt good to talk. Still to this day I get a bit teary thinking of it. Coincidentally, about a week later, I resigned from my job, sold most of my stuff including my beloved Kombi van, and now spend my life touring playing music and chasing the dream. I’m broke but the good broke that you’re proud of. My friends and family often say my life’s a bit weird and strange, and in writing this I’m reminded of that. I hope you got something out of my story, you’d be pleased to know that my Grandmere gave me my grandpere's Harrington when he died, and to be fair, that’s a way better club to be in hands down.