Traveling Pants Shall Travel No More

Over the past week, two pairs of my shorts and my favorite pair of cargo pants have developed large, menacing holes in their pockets. I don’t know exactly what brought it about (heavy keys, no doubt), but yesterday afternoon, I resolved to take my ailing garb to a tailor to get this small but inconvenient problem mended, quite literally. The plan was to go into effect yesterday, but thank goodness I waited because I would have full-on wasted my money — at least as far as my cargo pants were concerned.

Yes, last night, my favorite pair of Old Navy cargo pants came to a sudden and humiliating demise. I was at Jash’s house, taking in a viewing of Big Brother and I Survived a Japanese Game Show (didn’t finish the finale, no spoilers please!). The latter show was a lengthy two hours long, and as the clock struck 11:08 PM (we had started it at around 10:20 PM, after a DVR’d viewing of Big Bros), I actually became sleepy. We decided to table the rest of the episode until tomorrow, and on that note, I put on my sneakers to leave. It was a fairly routine sort of thing: kneel down on one knee, tie the shoe on the other. And it started off fine. Just fine! But when I did the switcheroo — going from kneeling on my right knee to my left knee — that’s when I heard the noise that every self-respecting pant-wearer fears.
It was so fast, so intense! I looked down and there in my crotch was a gigantic rip. WTF?? It’s a good thing I wasn’t flying commando (not that I ever do). This thing was like a cataclysmic tearing of the fabric. Kind of the equivalent of one of those Rhode Island-sized ice shelves falling off Antarctica. As you can imagine, Jash let out a peel of laughter. That was fine. I laughed too. But now I had to walk all the way to my car with my junk nearly exposed. This was not good. Luckily, since it was late at night, I didn’t really encounter anyone on the street, but that still didn’t stop me from slightly blushing when I sat down in my car and my pants let out a smaller but equally jarring second rip. Great. The hole was getting bigger. I was starting to feel like by the time I got home, I’d have full-on stripper pants. The entire time, I just crossed my fingers that I’d have no one with me in my building’s elevator. That would have been awkward.
Sadly, this was not the first time such a sartorial disaster had befallen me. Back in 2004 or so, such a disaster actually happened to me at work. I bent over to pick up a pen from the floor, and my (loose-fitting, I should note) jeans completely ripped in the ass. And now, this wasn’t one of those little holes. A whole seam tore from the top of my right butt cheek down to the back of my knee. Clearly something was wrong with the fabric. Amusingly, just a few week prior to this unfortunate event, my friend noted that the jeans, Carharts, were the sturdiest of them all. “These will last a long time,” he had said. Yeah, whatever. I call bullshit on that.
Anyway, I couldn’t just spend the rest of my workday with my ass exposed, and conveniently, this incident happened just a few minutes before lunchtime; so I decided to go home and change. Of course, that didn’t mean I was off the hook in the humiliation department. Back then, I was working at a production company, which meant that in order for me to get to my car, I had to walk allll the way across a studio lot, significantly upping the chances of public humiliation. It just so happened that the movie Flightplan was being filmed at that time, and I remember hastily walking by the soundstage and seeing Jodie Foster just standing there talking to someone. I tried not to look at her, but I’m fairly sure she and her friend took note of my ASS (again, sheathed in underwear). Sometimes, however, being in the presence of a celebrity will change things. Rather than cower in humiliation, I decided to raise my head high and saunter by as if jeans with giant holes in the ass was the new style. That’s right, Jodie. All the cool kids are doing it. Nevertheless, I rocked my tattered pants and spent the rest of my walk across the lot acting as if I was somehow the shit. Of course, the instant I got into the privacy of my car, I exhales a huge sigh of relief and gunned it home.
A rip in the back, however, is much better than a rip in the front. A rip in the front almost seems perverted. Gross. Inappropriate. So it was with great trepidation last night that I waited by the elevator, hoping the doors would open and I’d be alone. Finally, the moment of judgment arrived, and in a much appreciated turn of events, the privacy I so wished for was granted to me. There was no one in the elevator, and I was able retreat to my apartment unseen.
So the point of the story is that it’s good I didn’t waste any money repairing the pocket in these pants because I would have had to have thrown out the damn things anyway. I guess it’s time to buy a new pair. How tragic. They really were my favorite.
Now, here are some photos of the hole:

Behold the rip.

As you can see, it’s quite immense.

Seriously, look at that exposure.

A close-up view. We’re talking several inches of humiliation.


18 replies on “MORTIFYING MOMENT OF THE DAY: Crotch Rip Edition”

  1. You couldn’t put the boy in tha pants and give a lady a show?
    I for one wouldn’t mind have the total reinactment of the episode.
    It’s only you and me. ??

  2. What I would’ve done to be there to see the expression on your face when your shorts gave up the ship. You went home with a rip in your shorts. I would’ve went home with wet shorts from laughing so hard.
    And it takes quite a man to rip JEANS down the BACK from the ass to the knee. Good Lord, man, what sort of extreme stress do you put your britches through?

  3. BSide – You should refrain from using the term “several inches of humiliation”. It can sooooooooo be taken the wrong way.

  4. B-Side, your junk and ass never crossed my mind before this post. Now that they have, I’m all…distracted.

  5. Talking about anything “Rhode Island-sized” with reference to action in your nether regions… geez, B Side! You made me blush! Kinda porny, doncha think? I, too, am now all distracted.

  6. I saw that movie Flightplan. Jodie Foster had a lot more to be embarrassed about than you did.

  7. Ha ha! B Side! I can’t believe you lived thru the walking by Jodi Foster with a hugh hole in your pants. You are so brave.
    Bon Jovi performed at my DH’s corporate family event and Jon came on stage with a towel stuffed in the back of his jeans. I wondered why at the time, but later found out his jeans ripped right before he went on stage and they didn’t have any others until someone had to go get him some. He was on stage a long time until he took a quick break and changed.

  8. Oh…my…Gawd… you made me laugh so hard I nearly wet myself. (A few snorts and tears did come out, but no pee). Thank you for the laughs. If I am in a bad mood and need a pick me up, I will find this post again.
    But I am truly sorry your pants and shorts were sacrificed.

  9. Oh…my…Gawd… you made me laugh so hard I nearly wet myself. (A few snorts and tears did come out, but no pee). Thank you for the laughs. If I am in a bad mood and need a pick me up, I will find this post again.
    But I am truly sorry your pants and shorts were sacrificed.

  10. Oh…my…Gawd… you made me laugh so hard I nearly wet myself. (A few snorts and tears did come out, but no pee). Thank you for the laughs. If I am in a bad mood and need a pick me up, I will find this post again.
    But I am truly sorry your pants and shorts were sacrificed.

  11. “As you can see, it’s quite immense.”
    Um, are we still talking about the rip? Or something else?

  12. Had I been there I probably would have laughed til I cried… and then immediately start worrying that I used up all my karma points for being the fortunate lass to get a spontaneous BSide peep show.

  13. I’ve heard that when the crotch rips in the pants of a Jewish man, it ALWAYS rips big. Bless you and you “hole”y pants B.

  14. I TOTALLY feel your pain, B-Side. One time at work, I was wearing a pantsuit that ripped alllll the way down the back seam, completely exposing my ass (and patterned underwear). OK, maybe it would’ve been mildly humiliting yet manageable if I had a longer top that could be pulled down to camouflage the situation, but my suit jacket was short that day & stopped at the waist. Much like your embarassing stride across the production set, I had to march all the way down the hall back to my desk, passing people chatting in the hallway, with my FUCKING PATTERNED UNDERWEAR ASS STICKING OUT for the world to see. Yeah, mortifying to say the least…

  15. I swear my heart skipped a beat when you mentioned your junk.
    And it did again when I saw the “immense” caption. Smelling salts!

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