What’s a fitting way to end a cold, glum, overcast, rainy workday with clouds so low-hanging they mask the tops of Columbus’ mini-skyscrapers, a day so grey and gloomy you expect Bela Lugosi to come leaping out from behind every door?
I wondered: what are a responsible citizen’s obligations to society when he or she encounters some saturated Hanes on a public sidewalk during a persistent rainstorm? Use their handy umbrella to move the inexplicable yet offensive sight out of the right-of-way and happily out of public view, while taking care not to touch the item with a human hand? Keep a wary eye out for a pantless miscreant doing his best Gene Kelly Singing in the Rain impression? Alert the authorities that apparently functional garments are being left willy-nilly on downtown street corners? Wait to see whether cleaning crews remove it in timely fashion? Satisfy your curiosity about whether the u-trou would freeze solid overnight.
I shook my head at the sad and miserable sight, and then walked on.