Wearing a Suit

One of the joys of this job is, I can go through an entire working career without having to dress like an adult. I can look like an unmade bed (or worse, like my bud Chip T. Rosecrans) and it doesnt matter. Which is a long way of saying I wore a suit yesterday for the first time in 20 years.

I emceed an awards function for the local realtors association, at Music Hall. I agreed to do it months ago. I got the script Monday... Bottom of Page 1: Attire: Suit and tie.

Uh-oh.

Not "business casual'' which for me means clean Levis and a T-shirt without holes. Not "jacket required'' meaning a Jack Nicklaus Golf windshirt. Suit and tie.

I wanted to go out Weds. night and look for one -- Men's Wearhouse, right? Dick's? Big Lots? -- but I didnt have time. So I went to the closet.

I own 2 suits, Weddings and Funerals. Weddings is tan. Funerals is Navy blue pinstripe. I won't say they're old, only that to discover their true ages, you'd have to carbon-date them. Thank god for neighbors. A few minutes before I had to leave, a couple buds came over with winches and crowbars and I got my 34-inch waist into my 30-inch suit pants. By the time I finished at the awards thing, the belly fat had been shoved up to my forehead and I looked like a lab experiment. When I finally took off the pants, I could feel the blood start circulating in my feet again.

Moral of the story: I do a lot of speaking. I'd be happy to speak to your group. If you need me in a suit, ask a TV guy instead. I think the sear marks on my waist are permanent.