Get the Suit that Fits

To prepare for work this summer, I went outlet shopping with Enoch and Reza all the way out in Leesburg. Where? I don't know, I hadn't been either, but it was pretty nice. I got a few things: a couple of shirts, socks, a spatula. But the big purchase was a suit at the Joseph A Bank outlet. I had my doubts, but the fast-talking salesman assured me the suit would be easily tailored to fit me. I forgot a cardinal rule: never trust the fast-talking salesman. Upon returning to DC, I took my newly purchased suit to my local Joseph A Bank for tailoring. The tailor and the salesman took one look at it on me and pronounced it the wrong size. For a minute or two I was fairly unhappy - I was either going to have to work something out with the tailor or I was going to have to go all the way back to Leesburg (where?) to return it. I was mentally trending towards the latter option when the salesman thrust a correctly sized suit in my direction and told me to put it on. I did and expressed my regret over owning the wrong size when the salesman said he was just going to "exchange" the suits. There was roughly a $300 price difference between the purchased suit and the suit that was my actual size. But this did not stop the (slow-talking?) salesman - he was happy to help me out by "exchanging" suits while bemoaning my initial incorrectly-sized one. He did everything but admonish the first salesman. To this second salesman, my hat is off. I certainly thank him and I put in a good word for Joseph A Bank (which may be slowly going out of business), although not for its outlet.

I do not put in a good word for Calvin Klein's "Body" line of dress pants. Reza described the pair I tried on as looking more like tights. What's your deal Calvin? Are you designing clothing for starving Russian peasants? Most normal shaped men, plus me, cannot fit into those without looking foolish.
Another negative from the trip. At the Levi outlet, I was unable to continue my shopping due to the multitude of foreigners with vastly different conceptions of personal space. A man literally stepped on me without noticing while trying to buy jeans. How do you not notice that? How can you be so self-centered that you refuse to see or in this case feel other people around you? Sometimes I wish I had an airhorn to announce my presence. Or a personal lighthouse. Ships would never crash on me that way. How's that for a superpower!?

I went to the Nats game tonight. In an epic battle between two bitter rivals, the Washington Nationals shocked the Pittsburgh Pirates with a come from behind victory. There was plentiful sarcasm.