My (choose your own) story starts roughly 6 months ago.
Originally from Midwest America I was itching to explore the world. I’ve just graduated from university and ready to hit the workforce but having all of my friends moving away for work I figured I’d do the same. I found a job in my field of study, computer science, in the UK just outside of London and I figure why not! I got my visa and everything worked out.
I arrive and start getting settled into my flat. Living alone for the first time in a strange town on the other side of the world is a lot of change at once but I’m excited.
I am your typical geek with comic book t-shirt and cargo shorts being standard fair in my wardrobe. Glasses and my Apple Watch are my only accessories and my hair is beyond unremarkable, I likely see a hair dresser once a year at this point. I also have the typical geek body type, soft, non-muscular, yet not completely overweight. 100% unremarkable in every way.
I have a few days before I have to start my new job and have a bit of cash to get things set up. So I start to explore my new surroundings walking and checking out the shops and what’s available and where. I land that first evening at one of the local pups and grab a pint and start people watching. I very much look like an outsider and get a few passing comments from the bartender and some of the locals but most people unexpectedly ignore me.
I notice in the corner a group of guys living it up and deep into quite a few pints. I realize quickly though that this is a group of skinheads. Clad in the tall lace up boots, bleached out tight jeans, jackets, and suspenders, there’s nothing subtle about their style choices. That and every one of them had at least some part of their heads shaved. A variety of extremely short haircuts or mohawks and plenty of completely shaven heads in the mix.
I had never thought much about it but I’d always heard that skinheads were hardcore and to be avoided but what I saw here was a bunch of lads enjoying a pint watching footy. I could immediately feel my internal stereotype shifting.
I finish my drink and head back to my flat and go to bed ruminating on my thoughts of my new surroundings.
The next day I do much the same thing picking up supplies and learning where everything is. While out and about I see a shoe store and displayed in the window is a pair of those tall lace up boots I’d seen the last evening. I didn’t quite know why but something about them called to me. I guess it was the internal desire to change my presentation right along with my physical location.
I figure I have the time, why not go in and try a pair on. I go into the shop and the shop keeper gets a pair my size out of the back. Black leather with white laces. I put them on, having to deal with the length of my cargo pants while trying to lace them up and take a spin around the shop. Way more comfortable than I might have guessed. I decide to just go for it, I ask the shop keeper if I could just wear them out and after paying I went on my way. Mostly covered by my cargo pants I still felt just a bit more confident leaving the shop in my new footwear.
Later that night I return to the local pub, get dinner and a pint and start trying to pick up what I could about the local football team since I was sure I’d be hanging out here often. The same rowdy crowd is back in the corner enjoying their evening.
By the time I’m 2-3 pints in up comes one of the skinhead group and sits down at my table without asking and slides over a pint to add to my not quite finished one. “Oi, that’s a mighty fine pair of boots you have there. Too bad you’re not showing them off properly.” is the first thing I hear out of his mouth. My new found confidence is a little shaken wondering where this is going to take me.
He continues, “Hi, I’m Roger. You must be new to town.” and we start through the normal pleasantries of introductions and where I’m from and why I’m in this new town. Roger is extremely welcoming and open. Again challenging every stereotype I had ever thought about skinheads. Roger is tall we’ll build man and he’s wearing similar boots, bleached jeans, suspenders (which I learn later are called Braces), and a tight fitting polo shirt. He also had several piercings and more tattoos than I could count visible on arms and even his neck. After a couple of rounds Roger invites me to join him with his mates for a few more and I accept. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or my general openness to new things given my new surroundings but I felt at ease joining in the revelry.
After the football match is over, many rounds later, the crowd starts to disperse but Roger invites me over to his flat with a couple of the other group members for a few more drinks and I thank him for the invite and agree. We walk there together and Roger tells us to make ourselves comfortable while he gets some beer from the fridge.
Roger comes back with a lit cigarette and a few beers for those of us that joined him and sit down next to me on the couch. Roger then said the first thing that got me nervous….”Oi, mate you know I can help you show off those boot proper if you like. Such a shame to hide them away.” At this juncture I’m drunker than ever but even through my beer addled haze I knew this was a tipping point. I say in reply “What do you have in mind?” Roger doesn’t wait for permission at this point, he pulls out a pocket night and start cutting my cargo pant off just below the side pockets which is roughly knee level. It does in fact allow me to show off my new boots quite well. The roughly torn cut offs are a completely new thing for me but my initial reaction is that I like them.
“There you are… not quite bleachers but a good first step.”
“I like it, never would have thought of that. Thanks” I reply.
“No worries mate, if you like we’ll get you kitted out proper. In fact I think I have a Fred Perry and some bleachers you might fit nicely into. Want to try them on?”
At this point I’m still quite inebriated but I am also intrigued. “Sure thanks ‘mate’” as I awkwardingly start trying to use the local vernacular.
Roger steps out for a minute and comes back throwing some jeans that look 2 sizes too small and a polo my way. “Bathrooms over there but you don’t have to be shy, you can just strip and change here. Also, hand over your boots, let me get those ladder laced up proper for you.”
I pull off the boots and hand them to Roger and then in my inebriated lack of discretion I pull off my t-shirt and cargo pants right there in front of everyone.
I go to grab the bleachers and Roger stops me, “Oi, mate, it’s going to be a heck of a lot more comfortable if you wear those without anything under ‘em. Don’t be shy, we all have bits and bobs, not our first time seeing them.”
I slightly more timidly drop my loose fitting boxers to the floor and pull on the bleachers. Currently feeling both excited and nervous about this new look and these experiences. I have to work to get them just right but the bleachers fit surprisingly well despite the fact they looked to small initially. I also pull on the polo… or Fred Perry I guess… and started to leave it untucked and unbuttoned but Roger spoke up, “Like me mate, tuck it in tight and button it up all the way.”
By the time I was done with that Roger helped me get booted up and showed me how we’d laced them and how to work with them going forward. Once tightly laced and tied Roger had me go over to a full length mirror and check out my new look.
Roger headed off to the fridge for another round while I admired myself.
I barely recognized myself actually other than my unkempt mop of hair and glasses.
Roger comes up behind me with a beer and appraises the difference. “What do you think mate? I think you were made to wear skin gear!”
I stumble and falter for a few moments then admit “I actually really like it! I’m quite surprised.”
He slaps me on my ass and says, “Damn right you do! Now if we could only get rid of that shaggy mess on your head and we’ve got a whole new you.”
At this point I’m exhausted, still slightly jet lagged, drunk as a skunk. I reply, “ yeah.. Being shaggy seems off but I’m not sure I’m ready to go to something extreme like you. I’m bushed…I wouldn’t mind sleeping on it.”
“Sure, mate, no worries, just wanting to help you out a little.” He smiles. “I’m about to crash myself. How bout you finish your beer and curl up on the couch and we can chat about it tomorrow. We’ll hit the gym first thing in the AM and enjoy the day.”
“That sounds good, i’ve never really worked out though, you’ll have to show me the ropes.” I reply.
Laughing Roger replies, “No problem, I’ve coached nearly all my mates on how to get fit. We’ll have you busting the seams of your gear in no time!”
I sit back down on the couch and finish my beer. Roger’s other mates say their good nights and head out. Not long after I lay down on the coach and Roger brings me a blanket and I get settled.
To Part 2A - My last thoughts before passing out are “wow… this is all so new but exciting… maybe I just need to go with the flow and see where this take me….”
To Part 2B - I lay down and move towards falling asleep. I think to myself, “I had fun today. I wonder what tomorrow brings.” Little do I know that tomorrow is going to bring more change to my life whether I like it or not!
(To choose which part gets picked first comment below with which path you choose and the story will be written in that direction first but both stories will be written after the first path is complete.)
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