Pants need a zipper...

I have to share a funny moment.
I took cake decorating classes with a buddy of mine as an outlet away from kids and home. Our tradition was to go out to eat before class in Monroe, since we live in a podunk town without any true restaurants.
Anyway, we ate Chinese one night before a class and I was STUFFED!! When we got to class, I had to unbutton the top of my pants when I sat down for the class to allow room for a little comfort.
The class went on and ended without a hitch. I packed my stuff into my various bags and covered the cake I just decorated.
I took out my keys and put them into my hand, then we loaded our hands and arms to the elbow.
The class is in a room at the back of the store and we began the trek to the front with our load.
I felt a small rip of my zipper.
No need to panic right?
zzzz...a little more
umm....ok, I'm ok....
zzzz.....

So, here's the deal. That last "zzzz" was the last of my zipper. It was the last of any support that my pants were given.
I could feel my pants giving way to the sway of my hips. I told Lesa.
She looked down and began to giggle.
Thanks!
Her hands were full too.
UGH!
Another sway of the hips and my rear end was now not enough "booty" to keep them afloat!
We are now at the entrance of the store and I only have to make it to the car.
I began to think like the little train that said, "I think I can. I think I can."

So, with great ambition, I bent my knees and opened them wide and began to walk.....like a duck!

I waddled....
The pants slid....
I waddled wider....
They paused just above the hem of my t-shirt....

I was in a full on panic mode now and whispering loudly to Lesa to walk behind me.
She would have helped more, but she was too busy.
Too busy laughing.
She was practically pointing with her arm full of things. She was bent over a little trying not to pee on herself.
Gee thanks!
I too was laughing, which made the whole open legged duck waddle a little less effective and a whole lot more funny! Especially since I was panicking which made me pick up speed.
(just a note: laughter and speed are not good for the waddle)

I was about two cars from my car when it happened.

They fell below the t-shirt line.

To the knees they went and I went to a full on run for the last car between me and mine. I dropped the cake and the rest of its "friends" and fixed myself.
It was too late.

Lesa was on her death bed. She couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe.
We were about to die, together in the Hobby Lobby parking lot, me of humiliation and her of....well...she would die at my expense.

I can't conclude this little tid bit without explaining that the panties were granny style with a bleach spot and a small tear that the seam now could I?