Overdressed at KFC

So, all morning & afternoon I faithfully sum the beans, ya know, the boodle, the moolah, the gravy. Then suffer the slings and arrows of a long and crowded bus commute chock full of crabby, inconsiderate schmucks trying to make their way home, all of us with white iPod earbuds stuffed in our heads isolating us from the cruel world. And I arrive home just in time to jump in my car and turn around to go back downtown to the opera for rehearsal. Don’t even have time to prepare a meal at home. Even a ham sandwich would take too much energy. So I think to myself, “self, there’s a KFC right here in the burb. Stop on by & enjoy a hot meal and a fresh Coca Cola.” When I arrive I stand behind a pair of twenty-something-or-others and notice they are both wearing flannel PJ bottoms. Yes, pajamas. AND SLIPPERS! I think to myself, “self, I should have thought of that. Be comfortable & wear PJ’s to rehearsal. It’s what all the cool kids are doing these days” But civility overruled that argument. How could I possibly wear my bedclothes in public? As I pondered these thoughts on top of whether to have extra crispy or original recipe, another patron enters, a motherly type, with two kids in tow. She also dons a comfy flannel bottom. I’m now sandwiched by folks who clearly just rolled out of bed and headed to the local grease factory for breakfast. What? Is this world your private living room? As much as I admire a woman in a nighty and a loose robe, I believe those clothing items were intended to remain at home, and more particularly, IN YOUR BED! Ok, alright! I admit it…yes, I wore those crazy but comfortable Joey Buttafucco pants in the early 90’s. And sure, I was a teenager who on occasion wore parachute pants in the 80’s. What’s my point? My point is fashion. It was fashionable to look like a dork in the 80’s & 90’s with clothes designed and meant for the purpose of being worn and displayed in public. Pajamas, to my knowledge, are still designed with the notion that they be worn in the home. Nobody wants to see your saggy flannel butt with Homer Simpson and a thought balloon which reads, "Mmmmmmm....donuts" in public. Now, please excuse me while I go slide into my Garfield house slippers and practice Largo al factotum on the street corner…