Friday, November 15, 2013


Apparently I have gained a few pounds after retiring onto a sailboat. Imagine that. There are a few of you thinking, well yeah slacker boy, sitting around in the Sun drinking brewskis might have an affect on your waistline. Duh!  I didn't really notice it that much until I went to try on my suit for the upcoming wedding. This is the suit I bought for Kellys wedding that I am now recycling for Nicole's. Just a wee bit tight. If I hold my breath, maintain perfect posture, I can probably get these buttoned...

I started looking for a tailor because I did not want to be Spongebob Tight Pants for the whole weekend. I really needed to find someone to loosen these up and do it quickly.
Poking around google maps I found several tailors. One was Ahmed something or other and I called him to find out if he could make some adjustments in a week. He didn't sound like an Ahmed. More like a Samuel L Jackson. "A week! Better get em to me now mutha fka!" He didn't really say mutha fka, but Samuel L Jackson would have. I tried to find this place based on the google maps address, but it wasn't there. The female computer voice said, "Make a U-turn in point four miles, then destination on the right". The only thing on the right after the U-turn was a church. I can't see Samuel L Jackson in the basement of that church at a sewing machine. I called Ahmed. "I'm at 603 not 746!! I'm between a thrifty rental and a mutha fkin surf shop! You lost? Look for the thrifty!!" I drove around for another half hour trying to find the stupid place but it was no use. I could bother Ahmed L Jackson again but he seemed a little edgy. I'll just find another more visible place.

I called another tailor and a woman with a strong European accent answered. Can you do some minor waistline adjustment to a pair of suit pants in a week? "Yes." Where are you located? "Five, two, zero, turd street." What is the crossroad? "Yes." No, what street corner is nearby? "Yes, pink building." Pink building at 520 third street, OK got it. I was parked on a side street. I looked around and damn if there wasn't a pink building on the corner. Sweet. I grabbed my tight pants and went to the building which was a beauty salon. Damn. Confused, I walked around back and there was a sign on a door at the top of a flight of wooden steps going up the side of the building. Tailor. Uh oh. Sketchy.

I climbed the rickety old steps and opened the peeling pink wooden door. The door hit something halfway in and stopped. I poked my big head in and saw that I hit a fridge with flowers on it. Oops. The place was no bigger than a small bedroom and decorated like a gypsy caravan. There was multi patterned and colored fabric hanging everywhere. The place smelled like mothballs and menthol cough drops. There was some early eighties music on in the background, a Duran Duran song I think. In front of me was an attractive dark haired woman of about my age with Brezhnev eyebrows. Well maybe not that thick, but they were impressive. She was dressed like she would have just come out of a seventies disco if Romania had discos. She smiled and after a few pleasantries said "Try on pants yes? Here. Behind curtain." I walked behind a gold velvet curtain in the corner of this room where there was nothing but a small velvet covered table to put your clothes on. "Come out when ready." the woman said. She gave me one last look as she pulled the curtain closed with a snap. Dropping trou in this place was bit uncomfortable. I inhaled, and put on the tight pants and left my shorts behind the curtain where I imagined a little thief of a boy would pop out from under the table and take money from my wallet.

The woman pulled and tugged at my trousers and said "Three Quarter. Friday." Apparently that was 3/4 inches and Friday they will be ready. I asked if Wednesday would be OK. A stern look, another tug and she said "Wednesday OK. Curtain!" My money was still in my wallet and I looked under the table and there was no trap door that I could see.

I got back to the boat and told Deb my experience when she said "Tuesday. You need them Tuesday stupid!" Deb didn't really call me stupid, but I could definitely hear it. I called the lady tailor but got only an answering machine and a cell phone number. I called her cell phone and a groggy voice answered my plea with "Tuesday, OK"  and then she hung up. She didn't sound like the woman I just met.

Tuesday came around and I casually called the shop but none of my phone calls and messages had been answered. Hmm. Starting to get a little nervous I drove over there and knocked on the pink door but no one answered. I called the Gypsy's cell phone but it was unavailable. Crap. I looked up the error code from AT&T and it was unavailable because of lack of funds, meaning it was a prepaid no contract phone. Alarms are now going off in my head. I tried the rest of the day until about 5 pm, and in a panic I decided to call the hair salon next door to see if they had seen her. I had the salon lady checking on her, and she had called the landlord to see if I could get in there to get my pants. We were leaving wednesday and I had no pants for my daughters wedding!!

The salon lady was texting me with updates every fifteen minutes about her futile attempts to locate Miss Eyebrows. She was very concerned for my wife and daughter, not so much for me. "You can't ruin your daughters wedding because of these pants!" I asked that she call the landlord and have him meet me at the shop and let me in to find my trousers. I hate to invade someone's shop but I have no choice. As I was about to lock up the boat and drive over there I get a call. "Hello? I have pants ready. Come to shop now! Five turdy"

Haleluya! I have pants! When I got there she explained how sick she was, in bed for a few days with the flu. Ick. I went behind the gold curtain to drop trou again and she sat just outside it coughing and blowing her nose. The pants were perfect. She asked for fifty dollars and my eyes lit up. Holy crap! I gave her sixty and now her big eyebrows were raised. "Too much!" You said fifty right? "Fifteen! You stupid mutha..." I gave her twenty and she shook my hand, held it, stared into my eyes and apologized for being sick and not returning my call. "All my neighbors and landlord banging on door! Phone ringing! Oh, such a ruckus!" she said, with eyes more alert now than when I first saw her. Feeling pretty low about all the trouble I caused, I apologized to her and ran to the car for some hand sanitizer. I'm pretty happy I have pants for the wedding but I really feel bad about making such a stink about it. Maybe I should have tipped her more. Oh well.

I snickered a little about all this fuss, which I created by waiting so long to try on the pants, and as I drove by the place I gave it one last look. I'm not sure but I think I saw dancing eyebrows on a woman laughing through the window. Can Gypsies lay curses?




  1. Ahhh, the curse of the disappearing stitches

    1. Haha, yes there was a curse. Something tailor related happened at the wedding.

  2. Great story but I think you need to take your medication.