Well, it was this John W. McCain, and he wasn’t in them at the time. We were in Cincinnati for a dance weekend, the Pigtown Fling. That’s the same event that I mentioned last year when I didn’t go to the Creation Museum. I didn’t go there this time, either.
But how did I get into John McCain’s Pants? Well, dancing is hot work. It’s like doing aerobics or jogging, but with hot and cold hotter running women flowing through your arms all night. So by the end of the evening, I was quite het up. It didn’t occur to me to pull on long pants.
We drove to our hosts house in the rainy wee hours. (Short dashboard video of driving “home” to the tune of “Hello, I must be Going”)
As we arrived and cooled down, I discovered that I had left my long pants back at the gym. I’d get cold knees in the morning. After a couple of hours of conversation, I got a good night’s sleep. Note: At a dance weekend, anything over 4 hours is phenomenal.
In the morning I got up to shower. When I returned to my guest room, I spied a pair of unfamiliar slacks neatly lain at the foot of my bed. I’d had a visit from The Trouser Fairy! No host was in sight; he apparently returned to sleep in.
So I started my day in John McCain’s pants. They eerily reminded me of a pair I’d owned some years back. Who’d'a thunk that Big John wore nearly my size?
Here’s a video of our group dancing during Earth Hour, the next night: