“Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.”
That’s known as Murphy’s Law, and it’s true of many
things.
You never have a flat tire in the garage…nope, it will
obviously happen on the interstate highway.
And, then, it won’t happen when you’re dressed in jeans and a work
shirt. No. Rather, it will only happen when you’re
dressed up in a nice suit.
If you drop a quarter on the kitchen floor, it will
automatically roll under the stove.
The guy in front of you will only hit the brakes when you
look down. BOOM!
If one tiny chicken bone is left in the pot of chicken &
noodles, It will end up with it on my plate.
FACT!
And, if the seam of your pants rips from front to back, it
will only do so in public, and in a crowd.
EXPERIENCED!
I’ve officially ripped out my pants four times…every time in
front of a group.
Event One
Sometime late in my high school career, I attended a Fairlawn
Church of Christ youth group event at Prairie Creek Reservoir. Often I would have driven myself, but thanks
to Murphy and his law, I had decided to ride with the group in the church vehicle. So, when I bent down to catch that softball
someone tossed my way and I heard (and felt) that seam tear in my jeans, I had
no choice but to retreat to the back of the Chevy 15-passenger van. I resigned myself to social self-seclusion. I was sitting dejected on the rear seat when I
was rescued by one of the girls. She
handed me her hooded sweatshirt and I tied it around myself; then returned to
the festivities. Problem solved. I may have looked like a giant teenage baby
with a cloth diaper, but I still managed to hit a homerun or two in the
softball game.
Event Two
I’d gone off to Williamstown Bible College in West Virginia,
and each spring and fall, the ministry students traveled to another city to
participate in a week-long “campaign.”
In the spring of my second year, we held a campaign at the Lindberg Road
Church of Christ in Anderson, Indiana.
On the last night of the event, after all the official programs were
over, the whole crew gathered at a local family’s home for a party...a local family with three teenage daughters. At this point, I’m twenty years old…and still
enough of a kid to enjoy hanging with all the teens. So, there I was in my gray dress pants…my
fairly old gray dress pants…out in front playing basketball. The ball went up. The ball went down. I bent over to get it. RIP!
Front to back! There I was,
undies to the wind, in front of all the guys…and more importantly, in front of
all the girls. Luckily, I had an extra
pair of pants in the car, so I jumped in and slipped the extra pair over the
ripped pair and returned to the party.
Event Three
After college, I returned home to Muncie and involved myself
with the college-age group at my home church.
Among the many various activities was an annual bus trip to Chicago for
a seminar. It was March. There was snow on the ground. It was a long bus ride, and we stopped at a
rest area along I-65. Now, before I go
on, you need to know that all of the luggage was piled up in the back five rows
of the bus. It was just thrown in there
in no particular order. Anyway, the
whole group of passengers…goofy college boys and cute college girls…, well they
all piled out to go take a leak. Boys
being boys, and snow being on the ground, a snowball fight naturally
ensued. I bent over to get me a good
frozen missile when I heard (and felt) the opening of my rear window. RIP!
Front to back! I quickly
retreated to the men’s room and sent a friend to retrieve my suitcase. Of course, people started to ask: “Where’s
Mike.” My friend, being the honest guy
he was, replied: “Oh, he ripped his pants out, so we’ve gotta get his bag for
him to change.” Of course, my return to
the bus was met with more than one giggle and snicker. My face was as red as my frozen butt.
Event Four
A couple of years later and I’m all grown up. I have a full-time job slingin’ bearings at
Bearings, Inc at the corner of Liberty & Willard streets. I spent my days answering the phones and
helping customers at the counter. There
were eight or nine of us in the branch plus a constant flow of customers. A guy came in and asked for something we had in
the warehouse. I headed back to get
it. It was on the bottom shelf, so I
bent over to get it. RIP! Front to back! My fanny was in the breeze again!
So, I called to the warehouse guy: “Hey Terry!
Can you help me out?”
“What do you need?” he replied.
“I’ve ripped my pants out.
Can you take this up to the guy at the counter for me? Just tell him that I got tied up with
something back here, so I asked you to take care of him.”
“Sure,” he says with a sneaky grin.
I grabbed a stapler and headed to the bathroom. He grabbed the stuff and headed to the
counter.
A few minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom with a pair
of pants that you couldn’t get through the security gate at the airport to find
an office full of sneaky smiles and a guy at the counter that was
belly-laughing. The information was too
good for my warehouse guy to keep to himself.
I overcame the embarrassment within a few minutes, but
sitting at my desk was precarious the rest of the day. There is a great reason that clothing
companies do not use staples to make trousers.
So, take it from me.
Murphy’s Law will guarantee that if you wear your pants until they are
threadbare, the butt seam will split at the most inopportune time. Of course, maybe it wasn’t Murphy’s Law…maybe
I was just a clothing dork.
