I don’t have a large posterior. In fact, I recently had to punch a new hole in my belt after losing about twenty pounds. So why is it that each time I wear a pair of khakis with a rear pocket button, that the button catches on the arm of an airplane seat, pulls loose, and is lost?
I have two hypotheses. One is that there is a bitter undeclared war between airplane seats and pant buttons. The former, jealous of the latter’s freedom and mobility, scheme impotently for their destruction, and reach out to burst their threads and strike them loose at the first opportunity.
The second hypothesis is that there is an airborne Underground Railroad for pant pocket buttons seeking the quixotic pursuit of independence, and that through long hours of conversation with the airplane seats, they have converted the uncomfortable chairs to their cause. Now they whisper one to another about the fate of their peers, and urge hope to be kept alive. Someday, when the maintenance crew finds them, they will be free, and maybe go to Hawai’i.