So I have to go to Chicago. I’m actually kind of happy about this because I’ve never been to Chicago and most importantly someone else is paying. As business trips go this one is pretty short, out on Saturday back on Monday, no big deal. Because I’ll be meeting the Chairman of the Board (no, not Sinatra) and because I like to make a good impression overall, I thought I’d do something crazy and get some new pants. In retrospect, I guess I should have set out on an easier mission, like finding a piece of the true cross. I began my quest at The Grove. For those not familiar (and why would you be?), The Grove is a big outdoor shopping mall with all the same stores as an indoor shopping mall but laid out in a way to give people the impression that they’re shopping on Rodeo Drive instead of at a big outdoor shopping mall. I went to some of the trendier stores but as a rule they’re too expensive and I’m now a hair too old for what they sell. As has happened many times in the past I ended up at one of the mall’s big chain stores. I don’t want to give any plugs so let’s just call it “Plantain Federation.”
The Plantain Federation at The Grove is one of the nicest Plantain Federations you’re ever likely to see. It really is beautiful; more Milanese palazzo than retail chain store, it covers two floors and contains more white marble that Arlington National Cemetery. The men’s section is on the second floor and I climb the wrought iron staircase in pursuit of my grey or black, light wool quarry. I am truly impressed by what I see. Pants, shirts, ties, jackets— a menswear store worthy of the finest European grand magasin. I begin my search at a wall of racks all holding just what I’m looking for. I work my through each rack from front to back— size 28, 30, 32, 34, 35 (35?), 36, 36, 36. No 38. No 38? Well they must be somewhere else, on a table maybe. I find a table and it’s the same thing all over again. After 10 minutes of excavation EUREKA, pair of 38s. They’re not exactly what I’m looking for but at this point I’ll take ‘em. I’ve been a size 38 for most of the last 10 years but I try them on just to be safe. Now I don’t know in what parallel universe these pants were made or what creature they were made for but I do know this much. The parallel universe does not have carbohydrates and the (supposedly male) creatures for which they were made do not have external reproductive organs. These bad boys are tight. So I peel out of them and check the label to make sure it matches the tag. Sometimes pants get tagged incorrectly but this time no such luck. Knowing that I couldn’t fit into these pants and knowing that there was no way I was going to find a size 40 left me feeling defeated and a little depressed. Have I gained that much weight? There was only one thing to do. That’s right, go to dinner.
Many have said it and it does bear repeating:
Korean BBQ doesn’t fix everything.
So in a last ditch effort to find myself some new duds without making a trip to the big and tall men’s store I fell into one last chain store. A store that I felt I’d outgrown and that was, to be frank, a little beneath me. And there, lo and behold, were a size 38 pants just as nice as the groin crushing ones from the night before in several styles and colors and even more miraculous they fit. I have no doubt that after a little work at the gym (the gym I’ve yet to join), I’ll be able to walk into Plantain Federation with my head held high, pick out whatever catches my eye and have it fit. Until that time it’s nice to know I’ve found a store to fill the GAP.
Bob Speck lives and writes in Los Angeles. He has no idea why.
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