It was a late Sunday afternoon. Amanda and I had just attended the graduation ceremonies at the high school where I was working at the time. It was Memorial Day weekend and neither one of us had to work the next day, so we thought we’d go get some dinner and then see a movie. This was a spur of the moment decision that we made once graduation had come to an end. Both of us were dressed in fairly nice clothing. Therefore, going to a movie in dress pants and a polo was not my ideal outfit for a relaxing evening.

The school where I worked was about a 30-minute drive from home. The movie theater we were planning to go to was nearly 30 minutes in the the other direction. Therefore, instead of going home and changing, I decided we’d just stop at a Target and I’d get a more comfortable pair of pants to wear for the night. Not being one who likes to shop, especially for clothes, I hastily picked out a pair of pants that looked good. The only problem was I did not inspect them thoroughly enough before leaving the store.

After leaving Target, we drove to a Burger King where I went inside to the restroom and changed out of my dress pants in to the new pants I had just purchased. That is when I realized two things. First, these pants had an elastic band around the ankles. I despise pants like this, as they do not hide my leg braces very well. The second thing I noticed immediately is that they were a fairly low rise cut around the waist. I felt like a clown walking out of the bathroom and back to the car in these things. However, I wore them to dinner and then to the movie. I don’t even recall what movie we saw that night because I was so focused on my pants!

Fortunately, they were black, because about nearly halfway through the movie I spilled Coke all over them. There I was in a darkened movie theater with wet, Coke-stained pants, that had ridiculous-looking ruffles around the ankles and a low-rise waist band. The trip back to the car was going to be fantastic! Oh, and I forgot to mention, due to the low-rise waist band I had to stop every few feet on the way into the theater to yank my pants up, as they constantly were falling down. So, that would be another dilemma going out of the theater as well. I often get myself into these types of situations. You would think one day I would learn. Maybe someday I will.

Anyway, the movie finally drew to a close and we waited for everyone else to clear the theater before we made our way back out the car. Again, I had to stop every few feet to pull up my wet, low-rise, ruffled-cuff pants from hell! It was only by the grace of God that these things did not fall down all the way as I was walking back to the car. It was then that I decided that I was either going to take these things off right there in the parking lot and set them on fire, or they were going to back to Target, coke stains and all. I partially came to my senses and asked Amanda if she’d take them back to Target for me. Yes, I know, how could I take a pair of pants back to the store that had been soiled, but doggone it, I did it anyway. Well, Amanda actually did, but I digress.

So, we drove back to Target, I slipped off the pants, they went back in the bag from the store and Amanda got our money back! I rode home that night in my underwear praying that we’d not get pulled over by the police for any reason. Otherwise, I might have some explaining to do.

At this point you might be asking, “why didn’t you just put your dress pants back on that you had worn earlier in the day?” I don’t know why actually, I think it was my way of protesting the low-rise, skinny-jeans fad that plagues America today. Fat men need pants too! Next time, I am just going to pack some sweats and a t-shirt. I don’t know why Amanda loves me, but I am glad that she does. I am not sure if the people at Target have ever figured out what was on those pants, but we have been back to that store since. Fortunately, there are no posters with my face on them banning me from the store. In fact, we were just there yesterday. I kept my distance from the men’s clothing section.