Flash Me Baby!

The local Starbucks was quietly filled with students Last Sunday night, studying together on what seemed like a fairly big project, or rather dreaded exam. Lady Laundry and I looked for a place to sit, when we settled in two cozy chairs in the middle of the hub-bub for a little gab fest.
We began discussing the weekend, what went down, and general chit chat regarding kids, husbands and the impending return to routine as Spring Break came to a close.


As I chatted on about my weekend, something caught the attention of LL ,she hid her eyes with her hand and looked away with a bit of a giggle. At first I was convinced that I had somehow dribbled my Cinnamon Dulce Latte with extra syrup and whipped cream, all over my chin and clothes. But no, it was the sight behind me that was causing distraction. She told me, the guy sitting behind us diligently plugging away on his lap top was showing off horrific butt crack every time he leaned to reach for his coffee. I asked her if she wanted to find somewhere else to sit, but apparently it was somewhat like a terrible car crash, "she couldn't look away."

Now I am no fashion expert, but it seems to me that the current trend for young men these days is to wear their pants low over their hip and their Fruit of The Loom up to their chest allowing every one to see their choice of undies. As a college student I expected nothing less from this guy. In fact, judging from the students around me, it was "whatever is the most comfortable" allowing ultimate blood flow to the brain, or other body part needed for knowledge osmosis they were trying to achieve that night. However, it was apparent to me I needed to concentrate on keeping eye contact with LL to stop her from staring, after all the guy was less than ten feet away.
"Finally" was the word LL breathed when I noticed the guy walk by our table towards the waste bin. He was dressed in a light cotton Bermuda style shorts with a button up shirt, rather than the fashion trend I had expected. But it was probably the last piece of clothing in his closet that wasn't in dire need of washing. I'm positive the elastic in the shorts was stretched to its capacity, and the shorts lacked a drawstring, because as he emptied his tray into the trash, he flashed me too.

I winced, gasped and turned away. LL was right about the "car crash" syndrome, it was just too horrific. He wasn't bending over or making fast movement of any kind to encourage this. But his shorts and Joe-Boxer's were literally sliding their way down revealing pasty white skin, a great divide, a mass of pubic hair, and he didn't seem to notice.

I would hope that anyone feeling a massive wind tunnel flowing across his backside would be inclined to at the very least pull up his pants. I mean, come on, fashion aside, he just had to feel that right?? I hoped he would, for his sake, before heading back to the dorms where some frat boy would seize the opportunity to test his jump shot with a coin or spit ball, and yell, "WA-HOO TWO POINTS!!!"