A funny incident.... or; "Miss Manners" Learns a Lesson in Discretion

Oh lordy... this pregnancy has been very hard on my brain. I feel most days as if I fall a little further from a reasoning, intelligent being to a hormonal, emotion-ridden creature. Well, I was rather poignantly reminded this weekend that the age-old adage of "think before you speak" is a wise one to remember. To think that my old boss at Ave gave me a mock award once for being "Miss Manners" because I "always said the right thing at the right time."

So it started at McDonalds, somewhere along the way to Sedona. The family drove down to Sedona this weekend to spend time with Josh's dad and family. It is a 3 and a half hour drive from Gallup. Anyone who knows me should already know how much I abhor long drives, especially when I am pregnant and since having Greta. Anyhow, we stopped for dinner (I "needed" chicken strips) and went inside to sit down. We deposited ourselves in a booth next to a young man, who was industriously typing on a laptop. He was sitting down, so all I saw of him was his laptop and the fuzzy, little mustache on his face.

Well, we ate our food, played with Greta, and sat back to observe the incoming customers. People watching is one of my favorite pastimes... and people watching with Josh is one of my favorite sports. Our conversation falls to the level of satire, if not outright criticism, which usually results in a trip to Confession for both of us. I was in rare form that day. My head ached, my legs were stiff from sitting, my stomach was queasy (McDonald's chicken strips are not to be noted for their antacid effect), and the prospect of a long drive was still ahead. Needless to say, I was not feeling in particular good humor with my fellow men at that time. Then two boys, about 15 or 16, walk in. One has on a green t-shirt, reading, "God Recycles." Both had on those patchwork, plaid, pastel shorts that men/boys have been wearing recently and which are so ready to go out of style and remain horribly dated for the next 50 years. This is what I mean.

The boys walked by and went to the counter to order. They were out of ear shot when I looked over at Josh and said in my normal voice, "Those shorts are just ridiculous. Little kids might be able to get away with wearing them, but they just look stupid on grown men." Josh was nodding and laughing when suddenly, he kicked me under the table and started laughing even harder, but quietly. He discreetly indicated the mustachioed man sitting next to our booth. I look, but don't notice anything. "What?" I ask. "Look at what he's wearing." I look and oh my! He has on the fruitiest of plaid shorts that ever appeared out.

AWWWKKKKKWWWWAAAARRRDDDD!

The funny part is that the young man never looked up, never noticed us, never made any indication that such ill bred human beings ever existed. Let's just say that we made our exit soon after.

But why, oh why, do men insist in dressing in plaid, patchwork shorts? I blame the fashion industry for this lapse of civility on my part.