One day a few weeks back, a small group of us were on break at work, hanging out on the handicapped ramp, enjoying the clear night sky.
(Okay, I was copping a smoke. Yes, I indulge in The Evil Weed, but I’m working on it…).

In the course of the break, we watched two young men leave the building by the handicapped exit. They wore the mandatory doo-rags, spoke into cell phones, and sported very low-slung baggy pants. They seemed to be in perfect health, and were holding their crotches as young men are wont to do.

And because I’ve nothing better to think about at work, for a few minutes it bothered me: why were these perfectly healthy YOUNG guys taking a longer, circular way around the building instead of the stairs on their way home?

The answer finally came to us. They weren’t holding their crotches. They were holding their PANTS up. And with one hand holding their jeans up, and the other using the cell phone, they were afraid that, if they took the jarring steps, their pants would fall down. :shock:

I felt much better once I realized they’d taken the right exit after all. :yesyesyes: