Imagine, for a moment, that you are me. (Try and suppress the gag reflex that statement created. I'm trying to make a point here.)
You are at the end of your work day, having once again conquered the growing fear that you are incompetent. You are waiting for your train underground at a MARTA
station. Instead of thinking about the day, you find more refuge in thinking about the future. You decide - after two weeks of craziness involving travels to Dallas, DC, St. Louis, and Chicago - that it is time to look into the job benefits you were supposed to sign up for 2 weeks ago.
You crouch down to open your briefcase (your wife's laptop bag, converted to new purposes) and get out your Thrift Savings Plan
booklet, when suddenly you hear the most godawful "RIIIIIIIIIIP!"
You realize, with dawning horror, that the sound was your pants.
And this isn't any small hole. Oh, no.....this hole is in the middle of your pants and it ranges from front to back. Underpants notwithstanding, you are basically mooning several dozen, if not hundreds, of Atlantans. ("Underpants notwithstanding".....now there's an underused phrase.)
Thus far, no one seems to have noticed. Perhaps the noise wasn't as loud as it felt to you. Everybody's keeping to themselves and nobody is looking at you. NEVER have you been so thankful for the impersonal nature of modern urban society.
But this still leaves a dilemma. You are in downtown Atlanta. The train to take you home is rapidly arriving, but to get to it, you must walk to the train car - all the while giving no cause for the public to wonder whether you wear boxers or briefs.
But walk you must. So you walk...awkwardly carrying the Thrift Savings Plan booklet in front of you and your laptop bag-turned-briefcase behind you....trying desperately to cover the gaping whole in your pants. You realize you are probably only drawing more attention to yourself, but the alternative is too terrible to contemplate.
After a tense ride back home (thank God you got to sit down), you awkwardly walk to your car, drive home, awkwardly walk into your apartment, and swiftly change out of your lawyer costume and into some jeans.
My question to you, dear readers, is two-fold: (a) how would you handle such an embarrassing situation? and (b) what would be going through your mind? I ask that 2nd question because - honest to God - the thought that kept popping in my head was how this would be a good topic to blog about. This may give you an insight into the warped nature of my mind.