A zipper malfunction.
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.
“you’re riding the short bus. Just shut up.”
Dude this is serious.
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 is 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.
Are you expecting another?” she asks.
Yeah, a guy with a small waist and a long inseam.
“excuse me?” she says with a smile.
“Ah nothing,” I chortle.
I’ll just take that beer.
“Ok.”
Life’s Crazy™