Recently, I was in Las Vegas, on the sixth day of a nine day, multi-city run of speaking engagements and meetings. Rather than pack, un-pack and re-pack my tuxedo, I had arranged to have it shipped to each destination. With a black-tie event that evening, I learned that my tux had been accidently left on the truck.
It was 4 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon. The nearest tuxedo store happened to be Tuxedo Junction, about six miles away from my hotel. A very nice salesperson answered the phone. Her name was Mikka Moon. I say she was nice, but that is probably an understatement. More than nice, she was helpful.
She explained that their store closed in an hour and they were jammed because of homecoming season. She asked where I was staying and said that if I knew my clothing measurements, she could have a tux delivered to me by 5:30 p.m. The event started at 6: p.m. I said, "Let's go!"
I gave her my measurements and credit card number. It was now 4:05. Just 35 minutes later, Julio showed up at the hotel. I met him at the bell stand and thanked him profusely.
