The Saga of the Missing Pants

This is my third winter tour with club. As I sit on the plane, I can't help but think how fast the time has gone. The nostalgia is setting in from all the fun memories of the past few tours, but I remind myself that there are more to come as we continue our journey to Florida. 

This tour has started like any other... A farewell concert at a nearby church in Kettering, Ohio. I could barely contain the excitement Tuesday night as we all broke from dinner and were sent off to change for our first concert. 

As a third year clubber, I've learned a few tricks on what to pack and how to keep luggage organized for a 12 day tour. I was very proud of myself... This year I packed my entire suitcase a few days early. I felt ahead of the game, fully embracing this tour and hoping I can keep the enthusiasm throughout our adventure. This attitude would abruptly change. 

Due to the portion of food I consumed at dinner before our farewell concert, I needed a few extra minutes to let my food digest before I fit into my tuxedo from my senior year of high school. Finally, after about 15 minutes, I was changing in the basement of the church. I unzipped my suitcase to find my neatly organized clothes for tour. I grabbed my tuxedo bag and began to dress up. To my surprise and to much discomfort, my tuxedo pants were nowhere to be found. 

"Okay, Jack, remain calm.", I muttered to myself. "They were here when you took them to the cleaners, they're here now."

I calmly took a few minutes to look for my pants in my suitcase. They just weren't there. My calm demeanor quickly changed to frustration and anxiety. I remember this happening to a few others in the past, and recall them finding a substitute pair of black pants. Whether they were slacks, corduroys, or even sweats, I was out of options at this point and just needed something to help me blend in up there. 

I simply didn't have anything that was black in the pants variety. I was in a bad spot. Now, the time was 6:20 and clubbers began lining up. By now, word has spread that Jack O'Brien, the Vice President of the Glee Club, forgot his pants (this is never good for an officer's image). I've got a reputation to uphold people! 

I finally went out to the lobby where I saw Nathan Callendar, the President, making sure everyone was dressed appropriately for the concert and lined up. 

He immediately noticed I was lacking pants and still found it necessary to remind me that I couldn't sing like that. 

"Yeah, Nathan, I know I'm not wearing pants. You've gotta help me out, man." 

Nathan told me that he would do his best to ask around while I made sure they weren't In a hidden nook and cranny in my bag.

The time was now 6:25, five minutes before our performance time. I was really sweating over this one, what am I to do all tour? 

Finally, Nathan comes in with a pair of black slacks. "Hey, I grabbed these from Maxwell Shin, they're the only black slacks I could find. They're a size 30."

Now, to anybody that knows me, I'm sure you're thinking "How the hell is Jack O'Brien going to fit into a size 30? The kids been a husky since before he could read." 

Well I have some news for you, this size 36 waist was going to do everything he could do to sing with the boys. There was no way I was missing our farewell concert for our Florida tour. Sitting out is no way to start this journey.

I took a deep breath, sucked in, and yanked those bad boys over my thighs. They weren't going anywhere. After a few seconds standing and literally jumping into the pants, there was still no luck. I even tried sitting, in hopes that somehow the angle would allow my gams to slither into the pants. I finally tried one leg at a time, which seemed to work best, but it still was looking like I won't make the performance. I took one last gigantic breath and sucked in everything I had. As I was about to check the church kitchen for some butter, the pants magically slid over and were now around my waist. 

"Okay, step one down, now I just need to button them."

Yeah, not going to happen. I could barely get the zipper up. "Where did he get these pants, Baby Gap?" Using my resources under the gun, I grabbed an extra cumberbun and used it to cover the fact that these pants were not buttoned and wide open. (The breeze did feel nice during the concert.) 

This will have to do, I told myself. I began waddling out to meet the guys, just in the knick or time. I could barely move my legs the pants were so tight. 

Sitting in the back row, I sang like I never have before, and maybe even a few notes higher. I really thought I wouldn't be up there with my brothers. I wouldn't be a part of the start of a truly remarkable experience, both for us as young men and this Club itself.

This whole experience made me extremely grateful to be doing what we're doing. I felt as if a part of me was lost for those few minutes when It appeared I wouldn't be singing. Let's hope this is the last thing I forgot, and that there is a Walmart somewhere close to our concert in Orlando. 

 

Jack O'Brien, vice president