Sunday, June 18, 2006

“Your Pouch is unzipped:”

It was an informal extended-family social event, a number of us talking or moving about in a large kitchen, small kids, people of all ages. I absolutely froze when the Australian gent said “Your Pouch is unzipped!” I had no idea what pouch was a euphemism for Down Under, but I feared the worst. Now if this kitchen had been really full of people I could have surreptitiously dropped a hand to check for an open zipper. Or if the kitchen had been pretty empty I could have turned toward a wall and done the same. But there was just enough of a demi-crowd, all heights and sizes, that I feared any sort of quick check would look impolite. I stood there feeling helpless.

But then the same gent pointed, saying “Look it's unzipped,” drawing my attention to the little case on my belt that normally houses my PDA. I ruefully extracted the PDA from my shirt pocket, put it in the pouch, zipped it closed, and my good friend was greatly mollified.

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