Driving home wearing boxer shorts only

Sep 02, 2012 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

I left my home on Friday morning with the unshakeable intention to attend the funeral service at 9AM of the mother of my People Parliament colleague, Charlene Wilkinson, (she was one of the persons who started it) at St. Sidwell’s Anglican Church on Vlissengen Road.
As I got into the car, my wife noticed I was wearing a T-shirt. She enquired whether I am going to attend the service with such an inappropriate top. I directed her to my long-sleeve white shirt in the car. That morning, I avoided wearing jogging clothes for the National Park since I had to be in church. So I put on black trousers to go strolling. I would put on my shirt and head for Vlissengen Road after I would have completed my walk.
I wrote about an incident that happened two Thursdays ago in the National Park when a guy crashed his bicycle into us, hurting attorney Jailall Kissoon. Since that event, I informed the chief of security of the Park that I will no longer jog on the street in the Park. So my routine is to walk on the grassy lawn next to the trench. You can actually see when someone is coming up to hurt you. The evasive thing to do is to jump into the trench and come out onto the roadway where you can stop one of the vehicles that constantly pass.
For me that is a more strategic objective. If you are on the jogging lane, someone can easily come up to you, knife you and the other joggers would hardly notice. On the sprawling lawns in the Park, you can definitely see when a person is approaching you because joggers do not use that space. In other words, it is not crowded, so you can spot your would-be attacker. So Friday morning, I went strolling on the large grassy parapets of the National Park.
As I approached the tennis courts, I saw a person behind me and there was an object in his hand. It bothered me that he didn’t look like a jogger or stroller. I decided I would move away, walk in the direction of the tennis courts and onto the jogging track where other persons were. As I turned in the direction of the tennis lawn, I sank deep into a trench. For all the years I have been using the National Park, I had no idea that outside of the southern, concrete walls of the tennis area, there is a trench
I went down into the bottom of that black, stink water. My thoughts were still with the guy behind me but I honestly don’t know where he went but no one attacked me. I was covered in stagnant water. My discman (don’t have an I-pod; find it too tedious to put songs on a computer then transfer them, so I use CDs) and cell phone were submerged.
I went to my car, parked outside the security head office and stripped down leaving only my boxer shorts on. There was no way I could and should have driven home in those clothes.
I don’t know how the traffic cops or the anti-crime squad would have reacted if they had stopped me on the highway because all I was wearing was my boxer shorts. I don’t see how that can be an offence. Three years ago, former UG Student President, Jason Benjamin, was freaking out in my car because I was driving without my top on.
After buying flowers at the Parika backdam, the sun was too cruel. My shirt was totally submerged with perspiration. So we headed back to Georgetown with me driving without my top. Jason kept complaining that the cops will charge me with indecent exposure. I was laughing because I know that would be absurd.
A jogger can run from Parika to Georgetown in his shorts only if it is the long type of boxer shorts I wear that resembles a beach pants. A cyclist can do the same. And I doubt any police would take notice. So why can’t a motorist drive in his beach pants only? As I opened the door to my home, my daughter was staring in total disbelief. I told her what happened and she was laughing. When my wife heard she cracked up. Why were they laughing? Obviously at the irony of it all
In taking security precautions in the National Park, I ended up at the bottom of a stink, stagnant trench. Indeed this was funny and I found it amusing myself. But surely, I was unlucky. If I wasn’t surrounded by a security threat then I would not have done what I did. So after having a bucket of filth thrown on me, in order to avoid being attacked again and again, I walked into a dirty trench. I guess the life of a human rights advocate has its hilarious moments. Sorry, I missed your mom’s funeral service, Charlene.

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Driving home wearing boxer shorts only

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