I love my MAGA hat — but sometimes you want coffee without a triggering a screaming meltdown

I went to meet an old friend for coffee on the East Side of Portland. I don’t make it over to the East Side very often. That’s the more progressive, “social justice” side of town.

That’s where the most WE BELIEVE IN SCIENCE signs are. And Pride flags. And other statements of left-wing beliefs, prominently displayed.

Who in their right mind would wear an actual MAGA hat on the East Side of Portland? You might get attacked by a woman with face tattoos.

It’s also where people get stabbed, shot, and drive their cars into other people’s houses.

I live on the West Side, where people are more reserved and reasonable. Though there’s a lot of SCIENCE and PRIDE over there too.

Philadelphia Freedom

So I pulled up at the cafe to meet my friend. The sun was out, so people were sitting at outside tables: a lesbian couple, three skinny guys with tattoos, and an odd-looking woman in a dress and lipstick — but also with a tuft of gray hair growing out of the bottom of her chin. I was a bit startled by that.

And then another surprise: When I reached for the cafe’s front door, I saw myself in the glass reflection. I was wearing my bright red Phillies baseball cap.

In case you don’t know, the Phillies are a baseball team from Philadelphia. Their team colors are red and blue. Their hats are red.

I also own a Boston Red Sox hat that is navy blue, a San Diego Padres hat that is brown, and some other hats of other colors. I wear all these hats randomly. I own all these hats because I play softball in the summers and I like to rotate my hats.

The problem with the Phillies hat is that it’s almost the exact same shade of red as a MAGA hat. So if people catch sight of it out of the corner of an eye, they think they have spotted a MAGA person.

For this reason, my Phillies hat has been out of my usual hat rotation. When Biden was president, I wore it occasionally. But with Trump back in office and Portlanders suffering from their various Trump derangement diseases, I do not.

RELATED: The secret to senior softball? It's all about the magic bat

Irfan Khan/Getty Images

Behind enemy lines

Earlier that day, I had been wearing the red Phillies hat to run errands near my house. On the West Side, nobody cares what color hat you’re wearing.

But on the East Side, they do care. They care a lot. For instance, the woman with the gray beard had looked up at me as I walked by. She was probably checking my hat. And since it didn’t say MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, she went back to her coffee.

And really, who in their right mind would wear an actual MAGA hat on the East Side of Portland? Nobody. Especially going to a hipster coffeehouse. You’d be asking for trouble. You might get attacked by a woman with face tattoos.

Seeing the bright red hat in the door’s reflection, I had to make a decision. Go into the leftist cafe with my Phillies cap? Which might draw stares. Which might provoke comments. Or go back to my car and throw it in the trunk?

I mean, at some point, you gotta say enough is enough. A hat is just a hat. Even if it was a MAGA hat, shouldn’t I be allowed to wear it? Isn’t this America?

Our Lady of the Sacred Hat

I did have a MAGA hat back in the early days. This was when I was volunteering for a Republican candidate for governor in 2018. At some point, someone handed out MAGA hats.

Unfortunately, they were so badly made that they were unwearable. The top part of the crown wasn’t stitched properly, so it pointed upward in a clownish way.

Later, I found a real MAGA hat that was immaculate. It looked fantastic. But I never wear it. I keep it under lock and key. It’s my most prized possession.

To poke or not to poke

Meanwhile, back at the cafe, I had to make a decision. Seeing my hat in the door’s reflection, I could clearly see the big white “P” on the front. The “P” stood for “Philadelphia Phillies.” Any idiot could see that.

But leftists are crazy. And they can be dangerous. Especially in Portland. One is wise not to provoke them.

Also, my old friend was probably left-leaning himself. We hadn’t discussed it, but he lived on the East Side with his wife and kids. So even if he wasn’t a Democrat, he would have to pretend he was.

Did I want to put him through the awkward moment of seeing my bright red hat and asking himself, “Why is he wearing that?”

I did not. Nor did I want to get stared at. Nor did I want to have to explain myself. Nor did I want the barista to spit in my coffee. Or worse.

Live to fight again

So I went back to my car and threw my Phillies hat in the trunk. Fortunately, my old Los Angeles Dodgers hat was crumpled in the back. I uncrumpled it, put it on, and went back to the cafe.

Now there would be no problems. Though I did get a very suspicious look from the gray-bearded lady.