An Evening That Will Live in Infamy.

Aside from the time on I-15 when I barfed Jack Daniels all over the highway after channeling Janis Joplin at my boyfriend's son's bar mitzvah (sorry Michael and sorry Brian), I offer this as My Most Embarrassing Moment As An Adult:

I was 30 years old. I was hot. I had a great job, a great boyfriend. I was going to college at night, majoring in Political Science. It was late fall in Southern California. The light is golden, as it is always, and I was striding across the very large campus on my way to Philosophy class. I had just gotten off of work, and I was dressed as such-- a simple blouse, black high heels, black pencil skirt, and, as anyone who loves and knows me is aware-- NO UNDERWEAR.

On my way to class, I had to stop to get coffee. It's that way with busy, intelligent hot chicks such as I, striding into the student cafeteria which was stuffed to the gills with other (not as hot) students, all skipping dinner on Tuesday evening, books in arm, things to do, dragons to slay, fucking people to see. So I get my coffee, pay for it, strut out to the seating outside the cafeteria, and settle in for a brief overview of tonight's chapter in PHI 212, because we're having a test and by God, I'm gonna ace it BECAUSE I'M THE SMARTEST FUCKING WOMAN ON THIS CAMPUS AND NOT ONLY THAT-- BY THE WAY-- I'M HOT.

I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I look behind me, annoyed. There's a guy standing there, grinning.

"Hi," he says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Can I help you?" I ask, all business-y and important.

He averts his eyes, then they meet mine again. "Um," he says slowly, "Do you embarrass easily?"

"No. I don't," I decide to lie. "Why do you ask?" I say, tossing my hair, raised eyebrows, half-smile.

"Well," he says, kind of shifting from foot to foot, "Your skirt is unzipped. Your ass is hanging out."

"What? Oh," I said, holding my notebook over the offending crack, "Thanks." I get up clumsily from the seating area and backed towards the building wall. "Thanks very much."

"No problem," the guy smirks, salutes, saunters away.

Like a crab, I edged, ass to the wall, around the corner, into the Ladies' Room. Powder Room first, prior to Pissing Room. Thank God. Powder Room empty. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder.

MY ASS WAS INDEED EXPOSED. QUITE NICELY-- I MIGHT ADD-- BETWEEN THE TEETH OF THE ZIPPER OF MY SKIRT.

"Fuck ME," I breathed. I zipped up the skirt. Adjusted everything else that could have needed adjusting (just in case). Stared at my face in the mirror, which has never been that red-- before or since.

I sprinted to PHI 212. Sit in my seat. Ten minutes to class. My coffee was left back at the seating area. "Goddammit," I thought to myself.

Soon I heard a "Pssssst! Psssst!" from the door of the classroom. I looked back to the door. It was the guy who informed me my ass was hanging out of my skirt.

"Hey! Howyadoin'?," he waved and asked me. An old pal.

"Great," I told him, "Thanks for the info."

"No problem," he said, "See you soon!"

"Yeah. See you soon," I said.