His inseam is Generally shorter

Flew down to McChord AFB (near Tocoma, WA) for our final leg, with a fairly decent buffet lunch at the Officer's Club before getting some briefings from a few different organizations on base. The wing commander personally drove the General, so I sat in the back seat and took the opportunity to check my voicemail in case his office had tried to call. But instead I had a message from my wife, telling me I was on her 'shitlist' because her darling angel 2-year-old son had just requested to listen to "Meggy Death" in the car.
Unforutnatley, I spewed forth a raspberry crack-up, so I had to explain to the two seniors up front what I'd heard.
Heading up to our hotel in Seattle, we had a Chatty Cathy of a bus driver, thinking that telling foreign attaches about the local traffic cameras and television studios was interesting -- I tried to give him a hint that some people were trying to catch some shuteye after an early morning, but my attempts to grab the mike proved too subtle.
I escorted the General and his wife to their room, where we found in the closet two leopard-patterend robes -- but not the General's garment bag. So that was a fun forty-five minutes during which it couldn't be found. (Phone call at thirty minutes: "Sir, it's in his closet." "You know, that was the first place we looked. Try again.") But it turned up, and I was able to keep both my job and my spare tie (wasn't sure what he'd do for pants) while slapping on a suit for an exclusive dinner a third of the way up the Space Needle. (I'm getting paid for this??) The weather, I failed to mention, was absolutely spectacular our entire trip, which I'm sure contributed to the General's good mood.
He asked me to stand with him for a picture (with his camera) on the observation deck to prove I was there, so all seemed forgiven for my earlier lack of suituational awareness.