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MEITZLER'S MISSING PANTS


Chapter 1: Design Critique
It was sophomore year. I was siting in an art critique for one of my many graphic design classes. I had already wowed the professors and the students with an excellent observation about the perceived attitude of someone's design, and how it conflicted the message they were trying to convey. In my observation I used a lot of artistic hoo-haw like hierarchical scale, secondary color triad, and the grid system rule of thirds as pertaining to focal points, so I was free to spend the rest of the period zoning off into outer space and no one would care. My mind went over its usual wanderings: When does The Grill stop serving breakfast? I need to find out what internet video Ballou was laughing at in his room last night. If Jabba the Hutt was a Jedi, could he do back flips? All of a sudden Mike Meitzler hit me in the arm.

Chapter 2: The Mystery Unravels
"Ingle is wearing my pants." I looked at the guy Mike was talking about. Ingle was in front of the class explaining why his art piece had good unity. He was wearing a pair of well-worn blue jeans. I looked at Mike. He was wearing sweatpants. I blinked and said nothing. Mike, looking his usual combination of frustraighted, excited, and nervous, went on to explain that Ingle was wearing a pair of HIS pants...his favorite pair of jeans...a pair of jeans that had been missing. The sad thing was I knew exactly what pair of pants Mike was talking about. Not only did Mike use to wear this same pair of jeans all the time, but he would always talk about them---about how perfect they fit, and how comfortable they were, and how they were so worn in and soft that they felt like sweatpants. I looked at the jeans Ingle was wearing again. I guess they COULD have been Mike's pants, but that didn't make any sense. Ingle wasn't someone that Mike or I hung out with very much. I don't even know what Ingle's first name is. In fact I'm not even completely sure if Ingle is his last name. When could he have stolen the jeans? Ingle didn't live in our dorm building, so it couldn't have been a laundry mix up (not that Mike ever washed those jeans). AND as far as I could recall, Ingle had only been in Mike and I's dorm room once. I decided to humor Mike anyway. I really enjoy getting him riled up.
"Yeah dude, those are totally the jeans you used to wear all the time!" I said. Mike began to get excited and responded, "Yeah, they've been missing forever. Those have to be them!" After Ingle was done with his presentation, our professors let us have a short break. Ingle left the room. Mike called our friend, Lindsay Steele, over to where we were sitting."Lindsay," he said, "Do you remember my favorite pair of jeans?" "You mean the ones that you used to always talk about? The ones that you said feel like sweatpants when you're wearing them," she responded. Mike said, "Yeah, I haven't been able to find them, but I think Ingle stole them, and he's wearing them right now!"

Chapter 3: Steele
Lindsay told Mike he was crazy. I found this statement to be a little ironic since Lindsay, herself, is crazy. At the beginning of the year Lindsay drew a picture of Saddam Hussein. It was a portrait of Saddam after he was discovered in his "spider hole" when he had long, wiry hair and a beard. Ever since she drew this picture, Lindsay had been trying to find a way to turn it in as one of her design assignments. For some reason she found this picture absolutely hilarious. Whenever she was lacking in artistic inspiration [whenever she was bored in class], she would pull out the picture, say, "Oh Saddam...buh-daay," and start laughing hysterically for many days. She was one of my favorite people to have class with.

Chapter 4: Revelation
Mike had a sudden realization. There was a way to tell for certain whether or not the pants that Ingle was wearing were his. Mike let Lindsay and I know that the belt loop on the back, left-hand side of the jeans was broken. As Ingle walked back into the classroom after the break, Lindsay, Mike, and I stared at his butt in order to see whether or not the back, left-hand side belt loop was broken. Unfortunately, Ingle had a long coat on which covered his backside. We weren't able to tell if the jeans were Mike's missing pair. During the remainder of class, I noticed Ingle glancing in our direction periodically. I couldn't tell if the expression on his face was one of a guilty thief, or of a person who is wondering why everyone stared at his butt when he walked into the room. When the critique ended, Ingle was one of the first to walk out of the room. Unfortunately this critique had been on the final day of the semester before winter break. Who knew when we'd see Ingle or Mike's pants again. Mike ranted and raved about Ingle and his pants with everyone we saw for the rest of that day, but no one had any helpful advice to give. The blue jeans had seemingly walked out of his life forever.

Epilogue:
I am happy to report that Lindsay eventually was able to use her Saddam design. One of our assignments that year was to create a postage stamp. Lindsay's stamp included the portrait of Saddam with the caption "CAPTURED" below it. She got an A.

I later discovered the video Steve Ballou was laughing at was a video of a bear getting electrocuted.

AND...
After many months, during which the above story had become all but forgotten, the missing blue jeans reappered. Mike came back from class one day to find them hanging in his closet, freshly washed and ironed. Where had they come from? Who hung them in Mike's closet? (Mike never hung anything in his closet!) The answers to these questions have yet to be discovered.