Shortly after I posted last, as I was heading for the departure gate for Denver, I joined the elite club formed by Janet Jackson... a club where membership requires a "Wardrobe Malfunction" in public. I've checked the membership rules, and it appears that being on stage with Justin Timberlake is NOT a requirement... thankfully.
As I was making my way to the 4th Boarding Pass checkpoint (having succesfully negotiated the 3rd one, which required a guy rubbing my entire body with a plastic wand and his hands grabbing everything that made a beep and demanding that I show it to him... I won't go into much detail than that; just suffice it to say that I got the impression that he and I now share a bond that will stand the test of time... a male bonding experience that few share... ) ...
... where was I? Oh yeah... approaching the 4th checkpoint when I dropped my ticket. Not unusual, I drop stuff all the time! So I non-chalantly squat down to retrieve it, and my shorts split on the inseam from the bottom of the cuff to the crotch. Because of my unique position during this manuever, I was treated to an amazing explosion of denim... truly a sight to see. So recovering my ticket, and the remains of my dignity, I handed my ticket to the lady (of COURSE it's a woman... my luck will not allow it to be guy... unless he happened to be homosexual... oh wait, that might have been the 3rd checkpoint, what the HELL did that wand thing do to my pants???) Sorry, it's a bit difficult to stay focused...
I hand my ticket to the woman, who is managing to keep a straight face about as well as I am, and she suggests that I ask the gate counter if they could possibly bring me my luggage so I can retrieve a replacement covering. I spent 0.45 seconds considering that option, in which I pictured me standing on the tarmac with wind blowing ... well ... everywhere, while I dig out a pair of shorts, and then having to change right there... no thanks.
Fortunately (?), the split is on the inside, and is not BLATANTLY visible unless I'm sitting with my legs wide open... then it's way more of a show than I usually give on the weekdays, in a foreign country anyway. So I tell her that it's ok, I look "european" now... and at least I'm wearing underwear. We both turn a bit more redder in the face, and she says "ok then, good luck!" ...
Off I go, and have spent the last hour and a half trying to conceal my crotch as much as possible. The laptop is doing a great job right now, which was my primary motivation for typing this up now, while I still had a sense of humor about the whole thing. I have about 10 more hours to Denver, where I'm hoping I'll be able to buy a pair of shorts that aren't Blue and Orange. i'm sure my good humor will have dried up by then, and I'll be ready to smack the next person that I catch doing a double-take on my crotch.
Oh yeah... it's a good thing I'm going home. :)
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