Looking for Socks in Philadelphia

I realize that it's traditional to pack a full wardrobe, including socks, when one goes traveling for work. But I, like the McCain/Palin team, have always been a "maverick." Also like McCain/Palin, I am "more of the same damn thing" in that I never remember to think about whether I have clean socks or not until it's far too late to do another load of laundry before heading to the airport. And so it was that I found myself wandering the streets of Philadelphia looking for socks yesterday morning.

Being from a fairly spread-out midwestern city, it always seems incongruous to me to find Big Box stores nested in on downtown streets among the skyscrapers and pizza joints. Those kinds of businesses are by definition freestanding stores amid acres of the fast food jungle on the perimeter of town. So it was just a tad startling to walk 2 blocks from our hotel and go--as my roommate succinctly put it--"Shut UP! Is that a K-MART??" 15 minutes later my mission was fulfilled. (2 black, 1 beige, and one lovely pair of argyles.) Now I am more like Obama, having committed to a change of socks I can believe in.