You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy
A zipper malfunction.
Let’s grab a beer after work, I tell my buddy.
You got it, he says.
Five minutes later I get a text that says: My zipper broke. Going to buy pants.
Huh?
I text him back, Are you kidding?
No he writes. Using the restroom and my pants exploded.
I spend a moment trying to imagine what would cause a man’s pants to explode. Firecrackers in his pockets? A watermelon in his crotch? How aggressive does a guy gotta be to use the John?
By phone he tells me that his zipper simply shreds away, metal leaving fabric like a booster rocket falling off the space shuttle.
Pro football players have tear away jerseys, and Janet Jackson had a nipple reveal itself, but this is a pair of dress slacks?
Where did he buy them, Singapore? Were they made out of rice paper?
I can’t go for a beer, he says, Not like this. Not with my junk floating free.
Too much information, I think to myself.
I laugh out loud.
You’re blowing me off, I blurt out. Just tell me the truth. You have other plans, you don’t want to grab a beer, I’m a big boy, I can live with that. But your zipper exploded? Please….
“Dude, seriously, my pants are wide open. It’s embarrassing as hell.”
Whatever.
I go out and order a beer. Just as the stress of the day begins to melt away, my phone rings.
“Dude. I’m in a dressing room at JC Penney. I can’t fit into my pants”
Stop with the lies, I’m serious. I don’t care anymore.
You gotta hear this he says.
I’m ordering a beer. Hurry up.
He pauses awkwardly.
“I tried on a pair of pants. They fit me in the waist, but they don’t fit me in the crotch.”
What?
He laughs. Hey I’m gifted.
whatever.
So what did you do?
I had to buy a pair of pants with a waist one size too big to get an inseam that fits just right, he says.
By this time I am laughing too hard and the waitress waiting for me to order my drink is getting pissed.
Ok, Long Dong, whatever. I’ll catch ya later.
Click.
“I’ll take a Dos Equis,” I say with a shrug.
And that was crazy.