My dad arrived at Logan Airport on Saturday morning for his annual visit to his parents. He took the shuttle to the rental cars, struggling with his luggage. As he stepped off the shuttle van, his new - and obviously slightly too big - jeans fell to his ankles. All he could do was to put down his luggage and pick up his pants. The first thing my mom asked him, once she stopped laughing, was if he'd been wearing his "good" underwear, or the "Sunday hole-y" ones. His fellow passengers are lucky that he took his mother's advice and was wearing the presentable ones. I'm still chuckling about this, and hoping that the people around him are able to get therapy.