It all started with a little turbulence.
I was happily sleeping in my window seat on a flight from New York to Washington, when the next thing I knew, the man sitting beside me became violently ill. And no barf bag was employed. He not only threw up all over himself but on me as well.
My pants were covered in barf, and I was repulsed beyond comprehension! If there was a bright spot to this story (and that’s a big if) it was that we were about to land. I disembarked. Then I disembarfed. I ran to the nearest ladies’ and threw my pants into the trashcan. Was I self-conscious walking through the airport in a pair of pink panties? You bet. Was my mom slack-jawed when I walked up to her waiting car? Yep. Do I miss those pants? Not one tiny bit. And if I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s this. Opt for the aisle seat. And, whenever possible, wear plastic pants.
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