The Underpants Report

 11-05-21

You know you're going to have a bad day when you're forced to put on your emergency underpants.

Of course, I'm lucky I'm the sort of forward-thinker who even has emergency underpants — the typical man would probably be just left bare ... handed.

A few years ago, I lost all of my underwear to a felony. I was not the only victim of the crime wave that stripped me of my dignity and boxers, either — a woman I know had the same thing happen to her. (At least, this is what she claimed. I didn't attempt to verify. But who would lie about such a tragedy? It would be like lying about being murdered. In my opinion, people will stoop to a lot of low things, but rarely will they go so far as to claim that they've been murdered or had their underpants stolen if it is not true.)

Here's how the clever thieves made off with my underwear: I was on vacation for a few days, and in order to enhance my enjoyment of the trip, I brought my underpants with me. I packed other things, of course — this wasn't one of those "underpants only" hotels we've all heard about.

This was back in the days when airlines didn't charge extra for bags or service. I had two bags, but one of them was over the weight limit, which come to think of it describes the person sitting next to me on the airplane — actually he was sitting next to me and on me, because he was a little too large for the allotted space.

Anyway, I knew my other bag was very lightly packed because it contained things I tossed in at the last minute for my trip to the beach in Florida, things I thought I might need, like a snake-bite kit, my English-Italian dictionary and my ski mittens. (These may not seem like obvious things to take to Florida to you, but perhaps you're the sort of person who doesn't have a pair of emergency underpants on hand, either.)

At the check-in counter, I unzipped my larger bag and moved some of my heavier items, such as my laptop, my camera and an extra-large bottle of sunscreen, into the smaller bag of emergency items. This afforded all the people in the airport a good look at my clothing, which was not at all embarrassing. To provide cushion against the unlikely event that the baggage handlers might bump my bags, I folded in some of my underwear around the laptop. The people watching this applauded in approval.

I was very gratified that both my bags came in under the weight limit, because the penalty would otherwise have been $15 dollars, which I felt was an outrageous charge to check a couple of suitcases.

When I got to my hotel, I discovered that the bottle of sunscreen had oozed out a considerable amount of product when the side of my bag was caved in. My underpants were now all SPF 50.

I appreciated the extra sun protection but, after trying on a pair of coated underpants, decided I didn't like it because they felt "awful." I gathered up my sunscreened garments and took them to the coin laundromat, loaded them in, and then sat and flipped through 30 copies of People magazine, discovering in the process that all the people in People are the same people. They should call it Same People magazine.

When I put the clean underpants in the dryer, I went to the bookstore to find a novel. When I returned, the dryer was empty. Someone had stolen my underpants.

So I started the vacation by purchasing new underwear, which come to think of it was sort of the high point of the trip. The pair the thief hadn't taken I put away to be used in emergencies, which brings us to today. Because I bought them all on the same day, all of my underpants have worn out on the same day, their elastic sagging. It's like having all four of your tires blow out on the freeway.

Whoever he is, I hope the underwear thief is happy. It's his fault I'm wearing my emergency underpants.
 

To write Bruce Cameron, visit his website at www.wbrucecameron.com. To find out more about Bruce Cameron and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.