Thanks to my bloodhound-like tracking skills, I was able to find my Isuzu Electron in less than ten minutes. Thanks for asking.
Speaking of asking, several folks have inquired how I survived a four-day business trip after my rum incident ruint all my clothes on the trip down. Besides the shirt and pants that I wore to work on Monday, I had one other pair of pants and one shirt that was only stained/dyed on the back. My socks were all already black and my boxers turned an attractive shade of “bachelor blue,” so I didn’t much care about them. Ever the fashion plate here at The Dry Spot.
I went to the sundry store to try to buy a golf shirt, but they were all Tommy Bahamaish crap priced $100 and up. Not for this cowboy!
Most of the clothes that I tend to travel with are microfiber, so you can basically clean them by banging them against a rock. So I ended up alternating between the 2 pants and 2 shirts, covering the back of the f’d up one by wearing a blazer.
“You certainly must like that outfit, and aren’t you hot wearing that jacket all the time?”
No and yes.
For the most part, I thought I’d get away with my sartorial trickerations by just not drawing attention to myself. Y’all know I’m usually not afraid to tell embarrassing stories about myself, so if anybody asked me I just told them what a dumbass I was for packing a smelly solvent on top of dark clothes on top of lights.
I almost maintained my inconspicuosity until the big banquet the last night of the convention. It was then that your humble author received an honor that left me shocked and speechless. I had just sat down from a trip to the bar when they announced that they had awarded me the NPTA’s Young Leader of the Year trophy.
Young? Me? Leader? Heh. I wish my boss thought so, but it was sure nice to receive the recognition by all the leaders and my peers in the industry.
As I walked up to the podium and stammered my thanks, somebody in the back shouted, “Sell the trophy and buy yourself a new damn shirt.”
That’s more like it.