May 142008
 

No, I didn’t use the wrong preposition in that title. I’m not gonna share some close call that I narrowly avoided, rather I want to follow the tack of “If Only These Pants Could Talk”.
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I intentionally packed light for my recent cross country trip for two reasons: 1) I didn’t want to have to check any baggage, and 2) I wanted to leave room for the souvenirs we were sure to acquire over the few days we were in Myrtle Beach. With the expected humidty in the South I knew shorts would be the order of the day, so I only brought the single pair of pants I was wearing to ward off the relative San Francisco chill. These served me fine on the first cross country flight and even while wandering Myrtle Beach looking for food at midnight. The next morning they were left behind to guard the motel room against overzealous maids while we braved the heat and humidity. Essentially, they were on vacation as well, crumpled up in a corner of the floor while my shorts grappled with the task of keeping me both cool and decent.

Come Saturday morning, however, it was time for my pants to go back to work. Since checkout time was at 10:00, but our flight wasn’t until 4:00 we still had some adventuring and exploring to do before boarding our return flight. It didn’t take much walking in the morning heat to realize that my beloved pants simply weren’t prepared to the task at hand. Of course, our bags weren’t with us at this point leaving me no option but to endure, right? If you answered affirmatively then you obviously don’t know me very well. Instead, I went shopping. In a beach town shirts are always on sale, so it wasn’t too difficult to find some Dockers shorts to replace my full length pants. Ah, but that’s when the adventure aspect really comes into play.

You see, I couldn’t just wear the shorts out of the store because I needed to pay for them first. And the few public bathrooms in the area all have big signs reading “No Changing Clothes In This Bathroom” due to their proximity to the beach. Always mindful of private property rights I found myself with nowhere to change. Being in unfamiliar territory and with the area dominated by open air beachfront I found myself in a bit of a pickle. At first I considered one of the Port-a-Pottys, but the stench in the first few I entered was just as unbearable to my pants as it was to me. I then ducked behind a few fences and over a wall or two, piling on the grime as I went, but all to no avail. Finally I just decided that my boxers were as good as shorts and changed right on the beach, acting casual the entire time. Of course, I had absolutely no desire to carry my pants aruond for the rest of the day and yet no where to leave them either so they ended up being abandoned in South Carolina.

On second thought, forget “talking” pants, I wish that pair could write. They were still in great shape despite the dirt they’d acquired during their adventures not just on that day but in the 18 months or so I owned them. So, pants, if you’re out there reading this, drop me a line and let me know about your continuing adventures. Since that’s unlikely to happen, how about sharing the adventures of your pants? Better still why not make a video about it and enter the Dockers contest. Selected entries will be shown on NBC’s Tonight Show with Jay Leno!

  No Responses to “Adventures Of The Seat Of My Pants”

  1. […] and, the new shorts I bought in Myrtle Beach have a 36 inch waist and fit me just fine. Considering the pants I threw away when I bought the pants had a 40 inch waist I’d say that’s some pretty damn good […]

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