When I was 8, I saw a hamster running along the floor in the pet section of a W.T. Grants store. He obviously escaped from his cage, as hamsters are wont to do. I figured he didn’t want to go back in his cage with the other mean-looking hamsters, so I put him in my pocket and walked out.
I attribute the lasting emotional scars from that incident to leading me down a road of hard drinking and criminal activity…just kidding.
When I was 18, I put an item on the counter at a 7-11 to check out. The sales clerk looked at me, frowned, and said in a harsh tone, “Hey man, take that snack out of your pocket and pay for it!”
I figured he was joking (not a very funny joke, admittedly), so I just chuckled and said, “yeah, right.”
The clerk, a very large, muscular guy, proceeded to come around to where I stood, and yelled, “I’m gonna kick your ass!” He then grabbed my arm with one hand and thrust his other hand in my jacket pocket. He said sheepishly, “oh, man, I’m so sorry. I thought that was a bag of chips in your pocket.”
Turns out, the pocket flap of my jacket was inverted and the underlining looked just like a bag of Lay’s potato chips sticking out of my pocket. The clerk gave me a free Slurpee for scaring me.