As far as I know my son's never seen an episode of "Seinfeld." Still, he's adopted one of George Costanza's signature traits. Wallet stuffing.
In a 1998 episode, George's wallet is so overfilled it throws his back out when he sits on it. Jerry of course readily ridicules him. "Look at this thing," he says in their usual booth at the diner. "It's huge! You've got more cow here," indicating the billfold, "than here," holding up George's double-patty hamburger.
"I need everything in there," George answers. Everything meaning Irish money (he might go there one day) and an Orlando-area Exxon coupon for a free tiger poster, just for starters, to which George adds a few packets of Sweet'N Low, cramming them in, the wallet then closing only with great effort, and only partially.
My son, a college sophomore, has a wallet beyond his years. A gift from his girlfriend, its buttery leather a moss green and sporting his initials in gold, it's an example of fine Italian craftsmanship, in fact bought in Florence on a high school trip abroad, and so attractively foreign it can't properly hold American currency, which must be folded just so.
That might not be such a problem, but for all the extras inside. Old movie tickets, I'd like to think of some sentimental value, A.T.M. receipts, but beyond that I can't say, for that would be snooping.
The coins can't be missed, however. Keeping coins in a wallet may make sense in theory, as money next to other money, but I can't say I'd ever seen it before. Handy, but unduly thickening?
"You've got a filing cabinet under half of your ass," Jerry tells George, same eatery, different day.
"This," George says, "is an organizer, a secretary," he stuffs the wallet with difficulty back beneath him, "and a friend."
I think I get it. I just hope my son can avoid replicating that episode's semi-famous final scene, when a slip of paper the size of a postage stamp advertising a free guitar lesson is the last straw, and the wallet explodes, scattering its contents across a busy city street.
Otherwise, I've got a hand-me-down in waiting. Black, ostrich skin, and perpetually svelte for lack of bills.