That Damned Button-Fly

The road stretches endlessly ahead and the only witness of my descent into madness is the empty sky gazing lazily downward. Everything has become an enemy. Mile markers, once indicators of distance, now signify the vast chasm separating my mind from all reason. The car staggers down an interstate lined with trees, grass and plenty of fertile earth, yet I see a barren region and vultures swooping circles above my parched automobile. As my stomach tightens, squeezes, knots and the suffering seems far too unbearable to travel any further, great glowing letters slip into view: E-X-X-O-N.

I abandon the highway, leave my car unattended and hurry into the station to relieve myself of the anguish. I locate the bathroom hidden among rows of chips and soft drinks, the sense of approaching relief becoming sweeter with each step, and as I charge heroically toward the nearest urinal I can feel my heart thumping with delight. I reach for my zipper and prepare to bask in the ultimate liberation…but my hand finds no zipper and as panic returns to my fragile state, I recall with dismay that the jeans I wear today come fully equipped with that damned button-fly.

Although Jerry Seinfeld may have preferred the button-fly over the interlocking teeth of a zipper, when urgent situations arise very few things can be more brutally painful than an extra minute of unbuckling and unbuttoning. But as life, the grand-master of agonizing irony, would have it, most of the pairs of jeans I own come with that dreaded series of buttons. Why? I ask. Why would clothing companies construct their slacks with such a time-consuming device in such a crucial area?

Granted, there are verifiable reasons why one would support the button-fly. Perhaps it’s a greater stride toward freedom, feeling less constricted by a garment held together with a few buttons than two toothed tracks of metal coils. Possibly, some people were desperate to avoid hearing “XYZ” one more time. Or maybe some men were just too scarred by Ben Stiller’s hurried zipper accident in “There’s Something about Mary.”

As far as I am concerned the zipper is full of advantages. It is purely easier to use: grab the tab and pull versus find the slot, hold the button just right, insert the button through the slot, repeat five times. So why would anyone prefer button flies? Do they last longer? Are they less likely to come undone? Are they part of a larger trend toward 19th-century style? Is it involved in some sort of quest to prove your skill and ability under pressure?But whatever the motives, I just don’t buy it. I’ll button my shirts day after day with no complaint but my next pair of jeans better have a bloody zipper.