One fine day, I decided to avail myself of the gentlemen’s room at work. Had the entire scuzzy yellow-tiled chamber to myself. Score! I choose my favorite urinal which allows me to position my back to the door. I drop my zipper and realize that my underpants are twisted around such that the “convenience flap” is some where on my left thigh, which is a ways away from where I need it to be.
Being a resourceful fellow, I ponder the easiest way to remedy this situation. I reach through my own fly with my right hand and begin fishing around for the flap so I can spin the damned thing around to where it belongs. Sadly, it evaded me for a while. Undaunted though, I groped around my own leg certain that any minute I’d find the flap.
Right about then I heard the door squeak open. I try to whip my hand out of my pants but it doesn’t come back out as easy as it went it. Getting my hand free, I spin around to catch a brief glance of someone’s horrified face as they spun around on their heel and retreated.
I decided I didn’t have to pee all that bad and zipped up and left in time to catch the back of my horrified co-worker fast-walking down the hall, hands in pockets, looking furtively back every so often.
Later that day, I discovered I had put my underpants on backwards.