I swear this is true

[springer]

So, the other night, while having a beer in my favorite local bar, a guy walks in and takes the seat next to me. After a while, I couldn’t help but notice that he is wearing a Rolex. I strike up a conversation with the fellow and ask, “is that a Rolex you have there on your arm?” He pulls his beer away from his mouth, clears his throat and says, no buddy...that’s a dog turd on my arm, don’t you know a dog turd when you see it?” Then he continues, “damn son, it’s not just a Rolex, but a Rolex Daytona. Maybe I ought to just puke down the back of your pretty-boy shirt and give you a closer look at this $10,000 piece of manhood.”

Well, by this time I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into. As the night progressed, and the beers continued to flow, we ended up talking Rolex ‘till two in the morning. As he removed his Rolex for me to admire, I couldn’t help but wonder why he chose the black dial over the white. He asked if I owned a Rolex and told me that he knew many dealers where I could obtain a discount if I ever was in the mood to purchase. I asked him what was a better value, Subs, GMT’s or Daytonas? It seemed like this old boy had an answer for all my queries. He said that he has owned several Rolexes in the past, but his favorite was an old, ratty Milgauss from the ‘50’s. He said he had worn it in the shower once and it quit running a couple days later. He didn’t know what to do with it then - have a local watchmaker repair it or send it to the Rolex Service Center. Eventually, after consulting with several friends, he mailed it to Rolex but the watch was lost in the mail.

We continued talking Rolexes on and on for hours. He asked if I liked the GMT Pepsi dial or Coke dial better. What direction to lay your watch on the night stand before going to bed, and how his Daytona runs slow some days and fast on others. He even asked me if I thought he had made a mistake by removing his case back sticker off his watch. I felt like I was starting to become the guys psychotherapist and he, my patient. We laughed and downed beer until it was finally last call.

As it was becoming late, and not being able to get many words in edgewise, I never had the opportunity to tell him about my new Rolex Milgauss with the green-glass crystal. As we parted ways, I saw him wind his Daytona a few times as he walked out the door. I wanted to ask him whether he wound the watch in one direction or “back and forth” but I never had the opportunity as the beers had started taking hold. We parted ways and as I said goodbye, I saw him walk over to his car and while doing so, watched him slip on a pile of dog turds and puke all over his shirt as he struggled to pick himself up. I always wondered, to this day, whether that Daytona was real or fake.