Butt Out

There’s a kid working at a cafe I frequent I’ve come to know and like.  He’s half Latino,  half American Indian with shiny black hair braided down his back.  To say he’s striking is an understatement, and he’s sweet to boot.

He always comes over whether he’s waiting on me or not to see if I need anything.  I make sure to watch him stroll away since he wears ghetto pants sliding south with very preppy boxers peeking out as he passes.  I’m fascinated by this.

Why?

They’re not your ordinary drawers by any means.  They look like shorts George Plimpton might have worn, or William F. Buckley.  No Calvins for this guy.

The combination of low, and I mean low trousers and festive plaids bring out the Connecticut in me.  Makes me want to barbecue, or play a little croquette.

Does this kid spend his tips at Brooks Brothers or Paul Stuart?  Does he have a charge at L.L.Bean?  I so want to ask him without sounding nosy or flirty, but have yet to do so.

I was all set to when I stupidly locked myself in a stall in the ladies room.  Yes, Lucy was in the house ladies and gentlemen.

“Help Help,”  I yelled, so he was the one who came to my rescue.

After apologizing for being such an idiot, I thought…now here’s a great opportunity to inquire about those shorts, but considering the circumstances felt he’d think there was really something wrong with me.

He actually had to take the door off its hinges saying, “Don’t worry, it will just be another minute, okay Miss?” (calling me Miss makes me want to put him in my will) He seemed concerned I’d get flushed by accident.  It’s one of those automatic toilets if you’re not careful will grab your wallet right out of your pants.

I thought, he’s so sweet and polite I’d like to get him something.  A little gift to show my appreciation for how kind he is.  Not once did he say anything to make me feel stupider than I already felt, especially after seeing the line of women waiting to pee.

I asked my pal Camille what she thought would be an appropriate present and without missing a beat said, “How bout a belt?”

SB

 

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Fashion, humor, men, New York City and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

30 Responses to Butt Out

  1. micklively says:

    I will never get my head around blokes showing their knickers in public. Back in the day, we used to call it the bricky’s cleavage and it was consider the height of unattractiveness. Funny how times change. I think Madonna might have had a hand in this (showing underwear that is, not a hand in a bricky’s cleavage).

    Like

  2. Loretta says:

    What a wit!!! You have a way with words. LOL

    Like

  3. Elle Knowles says:

    Haha! A belt! Sorry you got locked in. Glad you got out without having to crawl under the door!
    ~Elle

    Like

  4. skinnyuz2b says:

    When it comes to casting admiring glances at the young’ns, my great-aunt (born 1878) used to say, “Just because there’s snow on the roof, doesn’t mean there isn’t a fire inside!”

    Like

  5. Love this. Glad you were rescued… You are too funny!

    Like

  6. Locking yourself in a potty? Yes, very Lucy for sure. I hope you laughed about it. I would have been hysterical.

    Like

  7. TheLastWord says:

    Oh nice one! I think leaving it to the wonderment is better than if you had found out… it’s so much better to leave that speculative. I can see a series of blog posts on this.

    Never been locked into a toilet stall, being more likely to worry about the lock not holding. Now, I’ve been to a ladies toilet so not sure if all the tales I’ve heard about the facilities are true and maybe the locks are better too. 🙂 🙂

    I did go on a date with my hair steeped in coconut oil, though….

    Fun to read.

    Like

  8. Ellen Hawley says:

    Great story. I know someone who got locked in the toilets in the Vatican. When someone finally broke her loose, she announced, “I’ve been beatified.”

    Like

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