Since I don’t have the luxury of being able to get by on what was left of my “work” pants collection while I await final word from the dry cleaners on the status of my lost pants, I had to go out and buy some new ones.

After work on Monday I took the E to 14th Street which allowed me great access to what I feel are the two best Banana Republic’s in Manhattan - the one in the Port Authority Building, and the one over on 5th Ave.

The Port Authority one is the better of the twobecause this one is way out in Chelsea AND sometimes has trannies working in the Men’s department. Both of these items leads the wide variety of homophobes to stay clear of this particular Banana Republic, which translates into having a better selection of clothing/sizes to wear as well.

My first stop was the Port Authority one, found a couple of Polo type shirts that I could wear for work, and was shocked to find out that the store didn’t have my size in the style of pants that I wanted.  It was during the checkout of my shirts that I realized that whenever I sign on the electronic credit/debit screens I always click clear instead of accept, thereby needing to repeat the process, and then only to repeat said process yet again until three or four times into it finally figure out what I am doing retardedly wrong.

So then it was off to the one on 5th Ave.  Which usually has more frat boy and trust fund looking types of shoppers.  My size of 30 x 30 was missing yet again, but I couldn’t leave empty handed, so I had to do something very shameful.  I had to try pants on in the store. 

To my surprise 31 X 30 fit rather comfy on the waist.  I bought two sets of pants, one black, the other and off black. 

When I got to the cashier to pay I asked her for the huge favor of getting rung up on two separate receipts since I was using a 20% off card on one of the pants.  I wish I could say that she did it no problem, but it only unlocked her Inspector Gadget mindset and decided to inquire on why I would need such things.  This was ensued by a five minute conversation as to just how and why a dry cleaner would lose my pants, and why I didn’t want to keep the pants that weren’t mine.

Since she was so inquisitive it was obvious that she wasn’t from NYC.

So there you have it.  I have two new sets of pants that are a size too big, fit comfy, with the only drawback being that my butt doesn’t look nearly as good in as the 30 x 30’s.

I’ll keep you all posted over the dry cleaner mafia still holding my pants hostage.