Pig Pen

I wasn’t about to stop wearing shorts.

I knew that I was going to lose 52 degrees as the plane set down in Buffalo, but I decided to put my sweats in my carry-on bag.

I’d put them on in the restroom before I hit the street.

The problem, of course, is that my casual dress is truly casual.

“What’s that stain on your shorts?” Kathy asked. “Paint?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Been there a long time.”

“Your Mantle shirt is also ready for the garbage,” she said.

“My Lord!” I exclaimed. “Do you even hear yourself?”

We were seated at the gate. Kathy turned her attention to my ripped up, bulging gym bag.

“Doesn’t your stuff fit into the bag?” She asked.

“It fits, but the zipper is busted so it kind of spills out.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“You’re a successful man,” she said. “You look like you’re homeless.”

She was being dramatic.

Yet, about twenty minutes later, I was washing my hands in the airport bathroom before takeoff.

Caught a glimpse.

“Mess,” I thought. “Homeless man.”

The Mantle shirt IS READY for the dust bin.

The bag has made its last trip.

The plane landed and I headed out to the gate. My job was to take everything, get the car and come back around to pick up Kathy who would make a slow walk through the terminal.

I was changing into my sweat pants in the first restroom off the plane.

“How’s it going?” Kathy’s text read.

“All right? Why?”

“You left two bags in the overhead compartment!” She responded.

I laughed.

No wonder the start of my walk had seemed easy.

“They won’t let me back on the plane.”

“I had someone take the bags off,” she said. “Come and get them. I told the guy to hand them to the guy who looks like he’s homeless.”

“Perfect.”

He knew exactly who I was.

I may have to try and dress a little better.

(This blog is dedicated to my sister Corinne who is celebrating a birthday today - she was the first to call me Oscar Madison for how I looked all dressed up - love you, sister!)