Awkward Laundry Moment

Yesterday I had a meeting at the Ecko offices. Let me tell you, that joint is insane. Three stories in a huge brick building right smack dab in the middle of Chelsea. We met on the showroom floor, where all the gear is displayed, and just had the sit down in their massive waiting area. Big leather chairs surrounded by flat screen tvs playing their recent runway shows, urban hits blasting on the overhead, model subway cars bombed in graffiti cleverly placed at every corner. There was a skylight that shot up from street level in the center of the building, so the entire floor wrapped around in a square shape. On one of the walls there was a giant shelf and on those shelves were large glass jars filled with a variety of candy. It was pretty fucking sweet.

So we are all seated on these cushy leather numbers, the four of us (my two partners and I plus the Ecko guy we were meeting), facing each other, talking. Between us is a large mahogany looking coffee table littered with music and industry magazines, we are in the front of the room, the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, after the desk with the secretary in it. Models and staff are coming and going but you cant tell who is which because they all look hyper fashionable. There was electricity in the room; the meeting itself was going excellent.

At one point I decide that I want a drink and ask if anyone else needs one before I get up to go to the fridge, which was a huge steel wall unit on the other side of the room, next to the jars of candy. I grabbed a couple waters and headed back, feeling pretty good about the meeting and flipping my bottle into the air and catching it with one hand as I strolled across the room. I guess there was a lull in conversation because when I got up to them they were all looking at me. Nonplussed and cruising like the super cool dude I am, I just stop and toss a bottle to Kevin, that’s when Charles points at my shoe.

“What’s that dude?”

I looked down. Well what do we have here?

You ever get in a situation where you wish with every fiber of your being, every shred of your faith, every moment of your existence, that a lightening bolt will strike you down to a pile of ash and whatever happened right before you were hit would be eclipsed by the sheer absurdity and magnificence of your sudden fate?

Right there, in the fancy ass Ecko offices, in front of everyone in the meeting including the secretary and two male models who were passing by, magnified by Charles accusatory index finger and the untimely break of silence in between songs on the overhead, a LONG ASS DIRTY SOCK was dragging from the bottom of my pants.

I couldn’t fucking believe it. I guess it had been stuffed in my pants since the last time I had taken them off and I just hadn’t noticed it when I pulled them on in the morning. What was even worse is the sock was visibly dirty, as I had worn them on the hardwood floors, scuffling around for hours, before I slid them off. It was a longer one too, and a light gray color, so the dirt really stood out on them. If I had taken a few more steps, it would have just sat there in the middle of the floor before someone finally asked what the fuck a dirty sock was doing just lying on the ground.

It seemed everything went silent and all of New York went still. I blushed and we all laughed and Kevin said, “Wow. That was an awkward laundry moment.” Indeed kevin, indeed. As discreetly as I could [which wasn’t very] I bent over, balled up the sock, and quickly sat down, shoving it into my bag. The rest of the meeting went without a hitch, but I’ll never forget those 5 seconds of ego crushing disaster. That shit was classic.