Tuesday, 23 March

Turns out the guy who measured me for my tux on Saturday was convinced I was a 46L, which is kinda amazing since all my suits say 42L. I mention this reality to him when I pick up my rental Monday, but he says tuxedos can measure out differently than suits. Hmmm, I reply.

Then he slips the jacket on me and the cuffs come down to the middle knuckle on my thumbs. My Esquirephile fitter assures me it looks quite stylish, but I feel like a 10-year-old wearing his older brother's sports jacket and complain. He disappears in the backroom and comes out with a "fix." It seems roughly the right length and I'm already 45 minutes late for an interview with some British naval officers who are waiting outside my office door back on base, so I stuff the jacket in the bag and run out.

I could almost hear the editors at Esquire clucking their disapproval at my mistake.

Later last night when I try it all on for my wife, Vonne, she suppresses a laugh and I know the jig is up. The tux guy had simply rolled up the sleeves and sewn a quick seam inside the arms. I was still wearing this oversized jacket, like some black-tie version of David Byrne in Stop Making Sense. So today is a bit of a scramble in terms of getting a replacement tux from another shop (where I sold the owner on the book) and a refund from the other dude, before I catch my flight to DC, where Putnam has a car waiting for me and a room in the Renaissance, an establishment I have managed to miss on all my previous government per diem trips to the capital.

Good thing I got a tux that fits, cause I'm moving on up!

So today let me offer one shameless plug for my book by commenting on a very "four flows"-like article in the Wall Street Journal and then tax your patience one last time with the last of my mega-posts in the Back Story of The Pentagon's New Map series (this one dealing with the process of writing the book).