Ladies, if you like being comfortable on the airplane, you’ll probably wear leggings, right? And ladies, if you like what I call the “smooth aesthetic” but want to protect yourself from playing peekaboo with the old man next to you when you bend over, you’ll probably wear a thong, right?
Freshman year spring break, I decided to give my roommate (who grew up in San Francisco) a grand tour of suburbia. Ironic, since our sorority’s Greek Sing show the week after break was American Idiot where the story starts with wanting to leave the boring hell that is suburbia. Anyways. Back to the main point. After clearing through the scanner, TSA stopped me in my tracks and declared that I was suspected of smuggling banned substances in my lady parts.
After all that hassle, the suspicious rolled up substance they thought was a joint or rolled up baggie of cocaine turned out to just be Victoria’s biggest Secret. We were slightly late that morning, so I had rushed to put clothes on, not knowing I had rolled the side of my undies into a thick bulge when I was attempting to squeeze my disproportionate derrière into the tight leggings.
All I can say is on the way back to school, both my roommate and I considered going commando.