The Holy Grail. The Ark of the Covenant. The black Weezer jacket I picked up last semester for a paltry $40 at Roy Wilkins Auditorium in St. Paul, Minn.

Yes, the low cost for such a powerful item surprised me too, especially considering the priceless nature of the other holy relics.

Greedy men and women have died trying to capture the supposed everlasting life-giving power of the grail – just look at “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” and “Indiana Jones the Last Crusade.” An entire Nazi army was decimated by the ark that was supposed to make any force bearing it unstoppable – just watch “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

And numerous men and women in the Central Iowa area have succumbed to the will of the Weezer jacket I often wear to class, bars and rock `n’ roll shows.

Perhaps the simple non-reflective gold lettering on the back and the solitary winged “w” that graces the front of the jacket contain special super-thin speakers that emit some hypnotic, siren song below the normal sonic register that attracts Weezer fans – kind of like a dog whistle.

Or perhaps Weezer fans are wired to be instantly attuned, homing beacon-like to the letters w-e-e-z-e-r.

Whatever it is, the $40 jacket I picked up at the show in Minnesota has proven to be an accessory of mythical proportions.

It seems a day doesn’t go by without someone noticing me wearing the jacket and yelling, “Weezer.” Often the person – usually female, I’ve noticed – then runs up to me to begin a conversation about the band, how many times I’ve seen them (only once, sadly enough), what my favorite album is (the “Blue Album” for its pop genius, though “Pinkerton” is a close second for its heart-wrenching depth) and so on.

It’s happened at Target, Hastings, Welch Ave. The locale is of little importance. What matters is the jacket.

And never was this more apparent than during the recent Veishea celebration. I was wandering Welch Ave. with some friends, and as we approached the Taste Stage, I heard a girl whisper, “Weezer.”

I turned to find her hiding behind one of her friends and thought little of it.

“Eh, it’s the Weezer jacket effect,” I told my friends.

Little more was said on the subject.

But later, as I walked out of Kum & Go, one of her friends called me over. I walked up to them, somewhat confused. Two guys and the girl from earlier, talking on a cell phone, stood with looks of anticipation.

“You like Weezer?” the girl asked.

I, of course, said yes.

“Will you talk to my friend on the phone? She loves Weezer, and it would be so cool if you talked to her,” the girl said.

What?

After momentarily thinking about it, I agreed. And so I began a three-minute conversation with the mysterious Weezer phone girl, the details of which are unimportant. Only the jacket matters.

After I talked to the girl on the phone, I handed it back to her friend. And that was it. No more interaction.

Earlier in the year, I had been partying around the infamous Welch-Hunt-Stanton area and was making my way home. A steady stream of people was headed the opposite direction, until one girl broke off from her group and stopped me.

“Nick Hexum,” she yelled to her friends, none of whom looked back, except for what appeared to be her less-than-happy boyfriend.

“Nick Hexum, you like Weezer?”

I said yes, thinking some odd combination of the bleach in my hair and the beer in her brain must have morphed me into the 311 singer/guitarist.

“That’s so cool. Nick Hexum likes Weezer,” the girl continued to yell as her friends moved further away. “Dude, I saw you at Warped Tour. That was so cool. You body-surfed over me. You guys were so awesome.”

I asked her what show she went to.

“The Somerset show in Wisconsin,” she said, staring at my jacket.

“Oh yeah, I think I saw you there,” I said.

“That is so cool,” she said, finally looking at her scowling boyfriend. “I better go, Nick Hexum. Bye.”

As she scampered away, the girl kept screaming, “Nick Hexum likes Weezer.”

There is just something about the band that will be playing Saturday at Hilton Coliseum. Songs such as the definitive ’90s tracks “Undone (the Sweater Song)” and “Buddy Holly” as well as newer ones off “Pinkerton,” the “Green Album” and the May 14 release “Maladroit” have drawn music fans of diverse genres together.

Weezer fans are special – so special, in fact, that I won’t date a girl unless she likes Weezer. And it seems they are – luckily, since I need all the help I can get – drawn to me.

But maybe it’s not the shared love of the music.

Maybe only the jacket matters.

Jon Dahlager is a junior in journalism and mass communication and sociology from Cottage Grove, Minn. He is arts and entertainment editor of the Daily and is hoping to spend the good life on an island in the sun with his very own “Susanne.”