Unspeakable tragedy struck about 6 months ago, of which I had no choice but to speak of. This was my entreaty for help. In it’s entirety. Unedited. My pain and anguish bright and blinding. Just like the light.
Please Jim. Do the needful…
I’ve had a pair of Stingray sunglasses (MJ-103-10) since January 2011, when they were bought for me as a gift in Maui while at a friend’s wedding by my longtime girlfriend. Who is now my longtime ex. As an aside, she also bought a different pair of your beautiful shades for herself, though time has, much like the persistent Pacific Ocean waves working the beautiful sandy beaches of Wailea, eroded the sharpness and clarity of my memory and I cannot, for the life of me, remember her name.
In the intervening years, my Stingrays have served me exceedingly well.
The frames have stood up to time, solid and unspoiled, still snugly and lovingly caressing the contours of my ageing and altered cranium (please don’t misread this as balding, that’s the farthest thing from the state of my head as I currently have long, luxurious locks flowing to my buttocks). The lenses have remained true and clear, the vision crisp. These shades have been well cared for. They find daily respite in their original hatched yellow case when not in use, like the opposite of a vampire who spends the daytime sheltered in a coffin, that is where they spend their nights. But in the case, not the coffin.
Being a beautiful day, I removed them from their case so that they could do their duty and protect my peepers. I stepped outside and, unlike those who did not have their Stingrays on, my eyes were not assaulted. I did not have to squeeze my lids shut. I could see.
I took a few steps in my intended direction then realized, while it was sunny out, it was very windy. And it was a chilly wind. And that I would need to go back inside and put on a hoodie.
So I did.
Stepping inside after having been outside in the bright sunshine altered my light perception. It was darker inside now. Harder to see. So I flipped up my Stingrays on top of my head as I’ve done hyperbolically a million times. I grabbed my hoodie from the closet and bent to put it on the bench.
That was my mistake. The error of ages. Bending.
It was as if time stopped. Or rather, slowed down.
I could feel the Stingrays dislodge.
Gravity. Always gravity. Of the situation. Of the Earth.
Though my reflexes have been described as cat-like, almost exclusively by myself, they fell ninja-like. And we all know cats are no match for ninjas.
A small clatter.
Phew, I thought. They didn’t break. It was a small fall from a small distance – I’m not a tall guy, so me being bent seductively at the waist significantly reduced the distance even further.
I put on my hoodie and picked up my Stingrays from the floor.
My heart sank. The left lens, a spider crack to go along with my recent ant infestation. This time, the ant pucks won’t work to solve my problem. Antacide is of no use to me here.
Sadness. Until I googled Maui Jim Lens Repair.
And here I am, seeking your assistance.
Can you save my Stingrays?
I’ve attached a photo of the injury. Be warned, it is graphic in nature and intended for mature audiences.
Yours, with squinting eyes, blinded by the light,
[phone number redacted]
ps. My ex is a wonderful person, I totally remember her name, and we still get along great. But I can’t remember which Maui Jim’s she has. But I do remember they were beautiful.