Projectile Panties

I have a God-Freaking-Awful cold. I'm coughing like a TB patient and my nose is bright red and chapped because there's a tissue permanently attached to it. All I want to do is sleep for about 72 straight hours, so coming up with a new topic for today's entry is a little beyond me. Hell, I'm having enough trouble doing the eleventy billion data uploads I need to do at work today so being even remotely creative is pretty much out of the question.

However, I promised myself that I would write something every day, so rather than come up with a new and interesting topic I'm going to re-hash one of the more embarrassing and yet pretty freaking hilarious things that's ever happened to me.

A few years ago I was taking a kickboxing class in some bizarre and fruitless effort to get in better shape. I had rushed to class straight from work and had about 3 minutes before the class started to get changed. I had also woken up late that morning and just flung some workout clothes into my gym bag without really paying all that much attention to them. I change into my workout clothes and cram my suit into my gym bag and make it to the class with about 46 seconds to spare.

Things are going well...I'm kicking, I'm punching, I am Billy Freaking Blanks and Bruce Lee all rolled into one! Then, about 25 minutes into the class I kick my left leg up pretty hard and notice something go flying across the room and wack this old guy right in the head. I pause. I am confused. What the hell was that?!?!

The old guy bends down to pick up the projectile that has just wacked him in the head and what do I see? To my complete and total horror I realize that I've just kicked a pair of Victoria's Secret leopard print panties right at this old guy and that this man, who is about my father's age, is standing in the middle of the room holding my underwear!!!!

Oh Shit....This can SO not be happening!!!!

Now, I'm not sure what the proper protocol is or what Miss Manners would say is the appropriate thing to do in this situation, but I know what I did. What I did was (not so discretely) check and see if I was still wearing any underwear. When I saw that I still had my underwear on, I became even more confused, but all I could think of was getting my wayward panties and getting the hell out of that class.

I walk over to the creepy old guy and ask him for my underwear back. He looks at me for a good 30 seconds and doesn't say anything, so I repeat myself. His response? "Can I keep them"!!!! EEEWWWWW. Just ewww. I snatch the panties out of his hands and flee to the locker room where I don't even bother to shower or change, I just grab my stuff and haul ass out of the gym.

On the drive home I figure out that these were the pants (and panties) I had worn to the gym the day before and that the projectile panties must have gotten stuck in the leg of my leggings. Being in a hurry to get to the class on time, I just didn't notice them.

Do I need to mention the fact that I never went back to that kickboxing class again and shortly thereafter bought a treadmill, never to return to that gym?