Example # 940 of my lack of cool-ness.



Yesterday evening while I was driving to improv practice I felt a bit off.  Right away I could not put my finger on the issue but something in my ice-cream covered universe was not right.  Things felt a bit out of balance and I could not figure out what was happening.  So I went through my "Driving To Improv" checklist.

Good music on the radio? 
Check.  In fact some old Crash Test Dummies was being brought to me by Sirius which brought out the lead singer in me.

Gas in the tank?
Check.  I made my wife fill it the other day.  To be honest I didn't really make her fill it...I just drove the car until it had exactly two ounces of gasoline left in the tank, and then I drove it home.

Was I comfortable?
Check. I had the car scooted way up to the steering wheel to ensure that I was driving like my 80-year old mother.  Plus my heated seats were keeping Mr. and Mrs. Cheekysnaps nice and cozy.

After finishing the checklist I was confused.  What was wrong with me?  Why was I feeling so out of whack?

Then I looked down and figured it out.

In my haste to get to improv practice I found myself changing clothes in such a haste that I had put my shirt on backwards.  I cast my gaze down upon and noticed the tag of my shirt staring back at me as if it was saying "Howdy,  you look like a jerk".

I agreed. 

I needed to get my shirt on straight.  But there was a major problem, I was driving 40 mph.  I was going to have to wait until I got to the place I was going...which was still about five minutes away.  So I kept driving...

But my backwards shirt really started to bother me.  I found myself itchy, twitchy, and ultra unsettled.  I am not certain why it was causing me so much turmoil.  Maybe it was because the fibers on the back of the shirt were not designed to interact with my Sherwood Forrest of chest hair.  Whatever the reason was I started to wonder if I needed to pull over to flip my blue shirt around.

Then fortune gave me a wink and a kiss on the cheek.

I hit a stop light.  This was the perfect place to turn my shirt around!  After making sure there was nobody next to me in the other lane next to me at the stoplight, I began to do my best impersonation of the sacred moment where Clark Kent transforms into Superman in a few blazing seconds.  I shot my arms up into my shirt and I began to rotate it around my torso.  It was not going as quickly as I had planned on.  Since I my drivers seat was so close to the steering wheel I did not have as much room to complete "Operation Turn Around".  I could not lean forward far enough and it kept trapping the back part of my shirt against the seat behind me...so I was moving an inch at a time.  Every time I tried to kick this process into a faster gear it felt as if I was going to rip the $ 7.00 TJ Maxx shirt. I found that the best way to get this whole thing done was to actually take my entire right arm out from the shirt.  I arched my back up from the seat and started to peel off my shirt.  I was about halfway through when I heard something that gave my heart a fairly aggressive prostate exam.

HONK!

My eyes shot up from my half-off shirt to my rear view mirror.  There was a couple cars behind me now and they were not very happy.  Apparently the light had been green for a little bit now and they were waiting for me to move...which was going to be difficult.  My left arm was trapped inside the center section of the shirt and my right arm (and entire right side of my upper body) had just freed itself completely from the burden of the shirt.  I was forced with making a choice...

Do I continue to tick off the cars behind me and stick with my shirt flip?  This was going to take probably another 10 seconds of real time.  However, that 10 seconds, when translated to "Stopped Car at a Green Light" time it equals about 3 minutes.

Or...

Do I quickly rip off my shirt and just start driving.  This would require me to drive half-nude, but the cars behind me would never know and it would allow me to clear up the traffic jam I was causing.

There was only once choice.  In the name of transportation I decided to strip like a showgirl.  With my free hand I ripped my shirt off as if I was about to transform into the Hulk again and I was tired of buying a new shirt everytime I got pissy.

Without my shirt on I slammed my foot down on the accelerator.  I went from shirtless to 40 in about 3 seconds.  For a few moments I felt kind awesome driving without the hiding my chesty shame.  I kind of felt like Bo Duke with the only thing protecting the world from my studliness was a windshield.  "Hey Cheyenne" I thought.  "There is a 90% chance of a severe thunderstorm of seductive machismo for your area".  I was free as a bird.....I felt like a bird who was just set free from a cage.

Then fortune ripped my kidney out.

Another stoplight.  Crap crap crap crap. I needed to put on my shirt...quickly! 

Too late.  A car pulled up next to me.  I could not look over.  I would not look over.  I should not look over.

I looked over. 

I saw an older couple staring at me in utter horror.  I made out the words the old lady was saying to her husband.  I believe she said "Harold!  The sight of this man's naked upper body makes me want to vomit through my eyes!"  And then I watched her husband respond with what I believe was "This makes me wish I did not survive WW II."

For a brief moment we started at each other.  Their eyes narrowed as their brains tried to decode the pasty images their eyes where sending them/  My eyes widened as I tried to come to grips with the fact that I was indeed flashing a couple senior citizens and giving them a front row seat to my amazing nipple extravaganza.

I had to do something to reassure them.  I couldn't smile or wave because I thought that would have been a creepy accessory to my peep show.  So I made the choice to play it cool and wanted to make it look like I had the whole situation under control.

I gave them a slow head nod as if to say "Hello friends.  Don't worry about it.  I often drive without my shirt on.  For you this moment may just last a few seconds but the images will remain burned in your soul long into your afterlife.  Peace"

I was hoping they would respond with a smile that would covey a "I feel ya dawg" kind of message.  I didn't get anything...they just kept staring at my form. 

Stupid shirt.

Honk!