The Naked Cowboy

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<You really must click on these images to appreciate little Timmy's adventure in New York City's famed Times Square.>

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I went shopping for pants yesterday and it was not a fun exercise. You'd think that going to Macy's, one of the largest department stores in the western world, would yield a plethora of pantaloons for an average guy like me. The trouble is...I'm not average, at least not when it comes to clothing. I am, in a word, a mutant.

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The Naked Cowboy never has to suffer the way I do. He just shows up in Times Square everyday wearing a pair of cowboy boots, a cowboy hat and a pair of tighty whiteys. My legs are unusually long, so finding pants of style in the proper leg length is like finding an intelligent meteorologist. Trust me, there are none on the east coast. Most jeans are made in the following leg lengths: 30", 32" and 34". Ideally, I take a 36" inseam, 35" during the spring freshet. For me, a 34" inseam is considered shorts. A 32" inseam looks like Daisy Dukes on me, and a 30" inseam reveals parts that I'm not legally, or morally, obligated to show at any time except during a prostate exam or honeymoon.

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Gawd! It's tough being me. To complicate matters, my waist has shrunk to 33", down from a pre-hundred mile diet 36". Try and find a pair of pants that have a 33" waist and 36" legs...seriously, try and find a pair in a store. I dare you. I'll marry you if you can find me a pair! Note: some restrictions apply, meet me in Utah for the details. Note #2: if Neil is reading this, my offer is null and void...I don't swing that way plus you're too pretty for me anyway). There are businesses that offer this size on-line (i.e. Old Navy) but shopping for on-line for clothes is fraught with peril. What if I accidentally ordered pants that made my ass look fat (if only!)? Then what? Returns are such a hassle.

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The Naked Cowboy is a genius. No pants, no hassles, no problems. I'm seriously considering following in his footsteps. I've been looking for a role model lately, why not him? Those of you who know me are aware that I started playing the guitar last December. This is no happy coincidence...it's strictly strategic. I'm not very proficient with the guitar, not yet, but if I show up in front of Fredericton's City Hall with 'my boys' hermetically sealed in Fruit Of The Loom's finest, do you really think anyone will be adjudicating my musical skills? Not likely.

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What would happen if I showed up in Fredericton dressed in cowboy boots, underwear, cowboy hat and a strategically placed guitar?

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I see five things:

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1) my son would disown me,

2) my friends would laugh at me,

3) Asians would pose with me for pictures,

4) I'd be beat up by a northsider,

5) I'd be arrested for owning a skateboard.

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Welcome to Fredericton!

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New York City, on the other hand, embraces the wacky and weird. That's part of this city's charm. It loves naked cowboys, and fire eaters, and exhibitionists of all kinds. Black, white, yellow, red, gay, straight, tall, short, fat, skinny, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Quamish, heathens, agnostics, witches, warlocks, tinkers, tailors, soldiers, sailors...all are welcome. Even leisurologists who photograph porcelain clowns are welcome in this town.

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New York City, even with its many faults, is nothing if not accepting. It's a breath of fresh air, metaphorically speaking, in that regard. All you have to do is slip a few dollars into the slot on the Naked Cowboy's guitar and you can do whatever your heart, or Timmy's heart, desires. The sky is the limit. Nothing is impossible in New York City, except finding a pair of 33"/36" jeans.