If you liked that one...try this one on for size:
Subject: Shopping Wicked Willie style....LONG
Date sent: Fri, 3 Mar 2000 13:05:45 -0400
Howdy all:
By this time, I imagine that most everyone around the campfire is
familiar with Felicity Shameless and her shopping exploits. Her forays
into the world of "Psychic Shopping," Mule Camp, The Last Stand and
Olustee should be the stuff of legend...if they aren't already. However,
there is another person involved in these shopping tales...one that is not
often mentioned.
That would be me.
Felicity and I attended Olustee this year (as is our custom), with the
intents of renewing friendships and visiting the various vendors. Civil
War re-enactments are great places to shop for period clothing...never
mind the insignificant point that the time period is a little earlier than
what most would consider the "cowboy period." One is usually able to
find
shirts and pants, as well as other items, that are perfectly acceptable
to
wear to cowboy events...especially if one ignores the authenticity
police.
We were pleased to see so many of our cowboy friends attending this
year. El Presidente and his lovely wife, Captain Shreve, B'ville Bandit
and his bride, Poppie and Miss Sadie and Bob Valdez, accompanied by his
better half, Lady Cameron. (I apologize if I have left anyone out - the
slight is not intentional.) Apparently, some of the vendors at Olustee
had caught wind of the fact that cowboy action shooters were attending
their event, because several of the outfits were hawking clothes by Wah
and Tombstone Outfitters.
(Olustee is one of the largest Civil War re-enactments in the United
States...and certainly the largest in the South. They usually have
anywhere from 75 to 90 vendors.)
As usual, our first stop was at The Lady in Black. It has become a
tradition (albeit an expensive one) at the Wicked Willie ranch, that
Felicity gets to choose an outfit at Olustee as a Valentine's Day present.
Making a long story short, after trying on just about everything that fit
and garnering a sufficient amount of public and impatient spouse opinion,
Felicity selected an outfit that suited her...and then batted those big
baby browns at me. That is my cue to take steps to ensure that she is not
arrested for shoplifting. I felt a stinging pain in my right shoulder as
I reached behind me for my wallet. This is due in part to an injury
suffered at work and also because of my FRUGAL nature, don'tcha know?
With tradition thus satisfied, our efforts turned to MY shopping. Of
course, after such an onslaught, the coffers were a tad depleted. Never
the less, I was determined that I would at least purchase my traditional
pair of galluses, if not a pair of pants!
Recently the circumference of my waistline has increased. This is by
design...since it makes the size larger pants I've been buying fit better.
Or maybe the constant exposure to the Florida sun causes my pants to
shrink. No matter.
Entering the Coon Creek Mercantile tent, I scanned the offerings.
There in the back of the tent, was a table just piled high with pants by
Wah and Tombstone Outfitters. I was in luck!
I carefully searched until I had found the price tag and then casually
cast a discreet glance at it. Satisfied that it was cheaper than retail
and a good bargain, I then began searching for pants with the magic number
on the waistband. (You didn't think I was going to tell you, did you?) I
found a dandy pair of dark navy pants with a silver or white pinstripe
that looked like they would be just the ticket. Noticing that the waist
was considerably higher than the Horsefly's I was wearing, I thought it
best to try them on and sought about finding a dressing area in the tent.
The proprietor directed me to a little makeshift room in the back corner
of the tent. Pulling aside the canvas flap, my pants and I walked on in.
Cowboys and cowgirls, this room was small! It seemed to be about six foot
square, with no mirror and no chair. Boxes were piled in one corner of
this dressing "area," further reducing the amount of available space. It
was also hot...uncomfortably so.
Laying the pants on top of the boxes, I thought to slip my pants over my
Cowboy Emporium Townie Shoes and save some time., since the little
dressing room was already making me sweat some. This was easier said than
done. Although the pant leg openings were more than large enough to allow
their removal this way, it required that I stand on one foot, since there
was no chair. Also, the moisture that I was rapidly accumulating on my
skin interfered with the speedy removal of the pants, necessitating quite
a bit of time on one leg.
Balance is not one of my fortes...in fact, it is downright difficult for
me. Just as I thought I had successfully negotiated a pant leg over a
shoe, I listed to one side....
I sought to stop my downward progress by leaning against the boxes. Much
to my dismay, I found out that they were empty and did little to impede my
trip to the ground. Struggling to keep my feet caused the empty boxes to
announce my clumsiness publicly. Also, when I fell against the boxes, a
large, undulating tidal wave was sent down the wall of the tent. Although
I didn't fall, the commotion was sufficient to cause the proprietor no
small amount of concern and he LOUDLY inquired as to my welfare.
I assured him I was fine, while cursing his dressing room under my
breath. I quietly finished removing my pants and trying on the others,
which were a good fit. In fact, due to the wet skin condition caused by
my struggles, they ADHERED on to me. Now to get out of these and
into my
old pair....
Unfortunately, I was fatigued by my labors. Hindsight indicates that
leaving the new pants on and wearing them out of the tent would have
been
a good idea. Hindsight being 20/20 and all. But I didn't do that and
began the arduous process of shucking the new pants. The fatigue,
stickiness and dehydration I was experiencing all conspired against
me as
soon as I assumed a one-legged position. As I felt my equilibrium
leaving
me, I thought to avoid the box debacle by leaning against the corner
tent
pole.
Unfortunate choice that one, since there wasn't a tent pole.
At this point, time went into slow motion for me. I could just picture
myself lurching through the tent walls unto the ground, with the pants
wrinkled about my ankles and my navy Hanes being displayed for all to
see.
I could just envision two very prim and proper Victorian ladies
happening
by at that precise moment
"Oh look, Mary! He must be a Yankee...see, he's wearing blue!"
Panic and adrenalin are wonderful things. Under their influence,
superhuman feats are sometimes accomplished. This time was no
exception and I miraculously regained my feet. With my energies
restored, (no doubt from the adrenalin boost) I finished dressing without
further incident. I emerged from the little dressing area as if nothing
had happened, with the only tell-tale sign of my struggles being my
dripping brow and a somewhat flushed complexion. I paid for the pants
and
also purchased my obligatory set of braces. Felicity was waiting for me
outside the tent, somewhat concerned about the length of my stay.
"Did you find everything you wanted," she asked. "You were in there an
awful long time."
"Yeah, I did. Do you like these pants?"
"They look nice, honey." (She calls me honey a lot.) "I'm glad you were
able to find something."
Ahhhh, life is good.
Wicked "This was the absolute truth" Willie
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