The leaves are finally on the trees, all the flowers in our flower boxes are fully bloomed, and the warmth of the night air is quickly becoming comfortable. Yes, summer is finally with us all with all its beauty and wonder.
For me, this time of year also begins the countdown to my old age. Each year my wife tries and fails to find the perfect wardrobe that will make me look sharper and of course thinner. The stores are in their glory with mass mailings and credit card offerings pushing people inside their dens so they can release them of their money. And each year my wife gets hooked on these promotions, trying to buy me the gift that will finally allow me to join the ranks of the stylish. For me, this is saying a lot because the last time I attempted to join the fashion world was when I started buying flannel shirts.
In order to discourage her from her quest, I always remind her of a particular birthday past. It was a time when the classic trend-setting style was the belt-less and fly-less elastic pants. This fashion promised to be the wave of the future.
At first, I enjoyed the pants because I always felt comfortable in them no matter how much I ate or drank. In fact, because of this, I decided to wear the pants to a Boston Red Sox baseball game one August night.
Fenway Park is a fabulous stadium to watch a baseball game. First, because there is always a great chance of seeing a victory, (until this past season), and second, the beer vendors are always close to all ramps.
Nobody worries about how much beer they drink at Fenway, until the middle of the 7th inning. Then everyone in the stadium realizes that it is time to lose some of that newly added weight. Remember one only rents beer, they never really buy it.
My experience in the men's room that night was more interesting and bizarre than any Fellini film I had ever seen. First, the encounters in the lines were a psychologist's dream. No one dared look at the person nearby. If you eyes happened to meet, it would mean an immediate classification of, "strange".
No matter how much I had to go, damned if I would ever look at the guy in front or behind me to check my position in line. And, of course, no one would ever look to their right or left. It simply was not done. I was doing a great job until it was my turn to position myself in front of that most sought after destination.
With great pride I reached for my zipper. I was totally terrified by what I discovered. My beloved wife's present to me from my birthday - the zipperless pants.
I had encountered the ultimate dilemma. Sweat began to appear on my brow. Even today, I try not to remember how my insides felt at that particular moment. After a couple of seconds, which seemed like hours of panic, I came to the conclusion that I had one of three choices.
First, I could pull my pants down to my knees and do what I knew I had to do. But, I quickly figured that if I did that, I was destined to become a headline for the, "National Inquirer".
Second, I could have just mumbled something to myself about not having to go. But, if I did that, I would be put away for being a total maniac. For who in their right mind would want to join hoards of men to the men's room at Fenway Park in the middle of the 7th inning for no apparent reason.
So I decided to exercise my third and only other option. Fake it. To my surprise I was really good at it. I gave that all-too-familiar relieved look as I stared into the dirty wall in front of me. I even swayed my hips back and forth to prove to all that no tell tale stain would threaten the front of my now dreaded pants.
I was successful in my charade. I then waited until well into the middle of the 9th inning to return to the men's room, where I found an empty stall just in the nick of time. Remember it was after another birthday and my bladder was not as young as it used to be.
My wife was asleep when I arrived home. I quickly got undressed and went to bed. About five minutes later my wife was awakened by an odd smell emanating from our front deck, which happened to have our gas grill near our bedroom window.
She was at first alarmed by the smell. But I comforted her by explaining that is was just one of those gifts from birthday's past.
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Last Updated: August 11, 1996