ExposedNYC

Leaving work today, I was glad to have worn my sleeping bag coat that goes practically to my ankles, because it was bitter cold. Little did I know my mortal enemy was living in the zipper.

About two blocks from the subway, I looked down and realized I had come unzipped from my waist to ankles, leaving the bottom open. Instinctively, I pulled the rest apart to start over, not realizing that the clasp at the top makes this impossible.

So, now I’m walking into the subway, sleeves on, and my coat locked at my neck like a kid running around in a towel pretending to be a super hero. I decided it would be easier to deal with once I was sitting down.

I got a seat on the subway (which in itself is something to be thankful for at that time of day), and tried my best to get the zipper to budge when the only angle I could see from was peering over my nose, chin to chest. I managed to get one side moving and inched the zipper towards the bottom. About halfway there I realized this was the side with a stopper, and would get me nowhere. I glanced up to see that the rest of the subway car watching in amusement.

I’m sitting there, half of my coat bunched at my waist, knowing there was no way I could convince everyone this was an elaborate exhibit from fashion week and feeling ridiculous at being trapped in my own clothes. I cut my losses, wiggled out of each sleeve and pulled it over my head, trying not to smack any of the people around me in the face.

Now, that zipper sat in my lap, taunting me. That sucker was more stubborn than me arguing for five more minutes of snooze time. At my stop I folded it over my arm and prepared to face the bitter home while my coat chuckled silently in my arms at my defeat.

But when I felt the first gust of wind at the top of the stairs, I knew this battle wasn’t over. I sat on a bench, took the zipper in my hands and focused every ounce of energy I had into moving the side that hadn’t budged. I knew it had just been bluffing, because after a short struggle, the clasp let go of its grasp, as if it had just been waiting for me to say “uncle”.

I held my breath as I started from the bottom again, zipping slowly and deliberately, but relishing every moment of knowing control was back in the right hands. No one who passed me on the street would have guessed that my smug smile came from showing that zipper who’s boss.

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