On our last days of our holiday in Greece, the kids made frequent trips to the village market to buy chocolate and more chocolate to bring home to their friends. After blowing the better part of 6 euros, Tony and I explained that we had to change planes in Switzerland, known for their fine craftsmanship of watches and also chocolate.
Now let me demonstrate the difference between American carriers and Swiss air. American carriers will leave you waiting on the tarmac for the greater part of the day while Newark airport redirects flights and makes you wait in 60 plane ques, should you think to ask for an extra bag of stale pretzels you will receive instead a heaping dose of attitude. Whereas Swiss AIr not only staff the nicest of attendants, they are extremely generous with their delightful little chocolate bars.
So generous, that you can greedily take a handful with promises of beautifully arranging them in a candy dish at home, like you regularly stock adorably red polka dotted miniature swiss chocolates. The flip factor here is that it was a painfully early flight and after taking the handful, someone may have nodded off and let one slip under their tush.
3 hours+1 mini chocolate=chocolate/shat looking smear right down the ass of your black leggings.
Like any other self respecting adult, I blamed Tony for being a chocolate hater and foolishly leaving his candy to melt under his wife's ass.
I stomped through Zurich airport demanding a Lululemon so I wasn't forced to wear my dirty garments for the next 12 hours. And while there was a Burberry, Fendi and Hermes, there was no Lulu.
Segue to me in the ladies room, kindly not taking one of the three stalls to wipe my leggings clean, I splayed my legs in a Dog Lifting His Leg To A Bush To Pee stance. As I wiped at my pants, the que of ladies waiting to use the loo, I couldn't be bothered with the stares. Until I realized they were staring at what looked to be a woman wiping poo from her bum, in public.
Wrestling with the use of my filter, I demonstrated enormous restraint not to lift the wet paper towel to one on lookers face to say "SMELL! Clearly it's chocolate I am cleaning!"
But instead, digging deep into my Jersey-ness, I said through gritted teeth "CHOCOLATE! I sat upon."
Though we never stopped to actually make a chocolate purchase, I can tell you that while the backside of my pants were visibly clean, every time I recrossed my legs, the fragrant smell of hot cocoa emitted from my crotch.
