Tim is pretty quiet, but we were at the local mall doing some quick shopping. Well. I was. Tim was sitting on the bench outside a store, watching people. Anyways, I walked out with a bag, and Mr. Quiet is grabbing my arm, hissing "Sit down, sit down! You've got to see this." He's laughing and trying to talk. "See what?" I said. Tim is not normally given to hysterics. He laughs and laughs, and finally chokes out, "You've got to see this guy's fly." Shocked, I said, "I am NOT looking at any guy's fly!", and I tried to pull away as Tim roared, "No, really, you've got to see this." People were starting to look.
I was mortified.
There was no further time to debate the issue, because at that point, a man came walking out of the store, hands in his jacket pockets, about 6 inches his shirt tail caught in his fly, and bobbing merrily along in front of him.
I am often embarrassed in public, and am usually very sympathetic about things like this. This was a local doctor. He's not mine. I'd've had to change. I could never have listened to his professional advice without that mental picture springing, unbidden, to my mind.
It would not matter if he was telling me I was terminal. I'd still be trying to stifle my giggles.
I am ashamed of this.