Many years ago, my cousin Mike was getting married. He lives in Vancouver, and had driven all the way to NY with my cousin Alan for my wedding, so I decided it would be only fitting that I attend.
My brother Joe also decided to attend, so he booked his flight through DFW where I met him. We then booked a connection through Las Vegas to visit my in-laws, and arranged for an 18 hour layover before heading up to Canada.
So, we board the plane and shoot out to Vegas, get picked up at McCarran and driven to the in-laws’ house around lunchtime. My mother-in-law, naturally, prepared a little something for lunch.
My Italian mother-in-law.
Not, like, bologna sandwiches or something.
I believe it was more like chicken parmigiana and leftover pasta.
We hung out a bit and then, of course, it was soon dinner time.
Italian dinner time.
I forget exactly what we had, but I guarantee there was too much of it.
More socializing, bed, sleep. Morning. Breakfast.
Italian breakfast.
Again, don’t recall what it was but there was way too much of it.
So off to the airport, jet out to Vancouver.
Now, the last time I was in Vancouver I noticed that some things like clothing was cheaper than the US (or NYC, anyway.) Between that and the favorable exchange rate I decided it would be a good time to get a new suit in time for the wedding. So Joe and I hit a men’s clothing store and I picked up a nice suit and some extra pants, tailored to fit.
Wedding was awesome as expected. Joe and I flew back to DFW and he continued on home.
A couple of weeks later, I pull out my brand new suit to wear to work. When I put on the pants – the pants I’d had tailored to fit in Vancouver – they were way loose on me. Vegas!
Epilogue: It’s been over a dozen years since then, and those oh so loose pants are now quite snug. Time is the great equalizer…