I have misplaced my pants

So a few weeks ago I arrived in Edinburgh with the CHP after several days of hiking in the Scottish highlands, which, when travelling with a limited wardrobe, can really bring home the stink. As a result, I was looking forward to abusing the laundry service at the snazzy hotel I scored on Priceline with my rancid unmentionables.

One of the foul mentionables I handed over included a pair of pants - pants which I had planned on wearing at my next few stops in Italy. The hotel missed the 24 hour turnaround on the laundry and I had to fly out of Edinburgh without them, but with a promise from the concierge that they would be posted to my address in Canada. I said "thanks a lot, you fucking fannies", flipped him the reverse-peace-sign and kicked in a window on my way out*.

Not having received to date said pants has enraged me to the point of writing the hotel a formal complaint. While the complaint itself is not so comedic, nor is the series of events, I just wanted to share some heckling prose I just received from my CHP, who really has no concern whatsoever for my pants:

Ode to My Pants

Two legs, button,
Zipper runs straight,
Soft brown caresses,
Legs its' mate.

I packed you away,
To join my fun.
Now lost forever,
What have I done?

Oh pants - I miss you.

*Note in Scotland this sequence of events would have closely matched regular custom. In reality, I actually stuck to Canadian custom, which is to pussy out of any confrontation whatsoever and show your dissatisfaction by only being midly polite - oh man, that'll teach them.