Ozzily Yours

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Drunken Shenanigans (Not Mine!)

So the husband needed new pants prior to our leaving for vacation tomorrow. He also had a credit to use up at the menswear haven that is Jos. A. Banks. Two birds, one stone, we headed downtown around 11:15 am to pop in, buy pants, grab lunch at Hannah's Bretzel (so delicious!), head home. Easy! Except...

Question: Who's a bad Irish-American girl?
Answer: The one who forgets to account for the freakin' St. Patrick's Day parade when making her plans.

Yeah. We parked on lower Wacker, and, upon climbing the stairs to the surface world, were greeted with green antenna headbands, green hats in the shape of beer mugs, green feather boas. And, of course, we were immediately filled with hate.

But we would not be deterred. We made it the six blocks to Jos. A. Banks (the husband had the genius idea to cut through the Chicago Cultural Center for one of those blocks, providing a blissful respite from the idiocy outside), met Bob the sales guy, found a great pair of pants, realized they needed to be hemmed, left them with Bob the sales guy to complete that task, and headed over to Hannah's.

After lunch, as we returned to pick up the new pants, the parade had clearly just broken up. The crowds had dispersed, and people were heading west, back to their cars, the L, whatever.

And one young green-sweatshirted woman was, it seemed, heading west directly into Jos. A. Bank. As we walked in the door, she was just a few feet behind us. Later, the husband and I discussed the fact that we both found ourselves hoping, "Maybe she's shopping for someone, or asking directions, or something else legitimate!"

That hope was proven futile when she began to weave past the suit display, brushing up against the sport coats, and then stumbled right into a wall. Unfazed, she picked herself back up, and continued on her journey... beelining right into one of the dressing rooms, slamming the door shut behind her.

So the husband picked up his pants, and then mentioned to Bob that we had seen a reveler stumble into one of the dressing rooms, and that perhaps he should check on her. We didn't stick around to see the outcome, but we like to think that, at best, we saved a young woman's life yesterday. At worst, we saved a dressing room floor from being painted with vomit. Either way, we like to think it was a mitzvah.

And with that, we're off to Florida for five days.


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