Last Friday, the weather took a turn for the unseasonably warm here in the Lehigh Valley. I had the foresight to take the day off from work, just to enjoy the sunshine. I only had a few items on my to-do list, and one of them was, “Take the jorts out for a spin.”
For the uninitiated, jorts are jean shorts, and awesome. They can be old pants, reincarnated, or they can be purchased. They can be “formal” – jorts that are neatly cuffed and fancy – or not. Subclasses of informal jorts include swimming jorts (loose, for freedom of motion in the water) and running jorts (cut up high on the sides, for freedom of motion on land).
Unfortunately, I own only one pair of jorts, but they have been with me for some of the best times of my life. I bought them around this time last year, in preparation for an early March trip to Las Vegas with some college friends. I remember wondering in the dressing room of Charlotte Russe – yes, I know I am much too old to shop there – whether I would even wear them. These make me look like a wannabe teenager, I thought. They have a hole in them! And they’re kind of baggy! Why should I spend $20 to own a busted pair of denim shorts? Maybe I should go to Ann Taylor Loft.
I bought them, in the end, and brought them with me to Vegas. It wasn’t long before I was able to sport them in the Lehigh Valley. Temperatures climbed into the 70s during the weekend of the annual St. Patrick’s Day bar crawl in west Allentown, so my jorts made a late-March debut. Warm weather had arrived, and with it, plenty of opportunities to wear my jorts.
At least 75% of the photos of me from last summer show me wearing that same pair of jorts. They accompanied me to Philadelphia, for the big bike race in June, and to Ocean City, Maryland, for our awesome beach weekend in August. They saw a Dave Matthews Band concert, a Phillies game, and a bunch of races at the Velodrome. They went to Musikfest almost as many days as I did.
It was with great sadness that I retired them for the year after the Celtic Classic in Bethlehem at the end of September. They went with everything, they allowed plenty of room for excessive food and drink consumption, and they made my legs look good. I feared I could not be truly happy as long as my jorts sat dormant in the plastic bin under my bed. No jorts meant no heat, no sunshine, no outdoor festivals.
It’s true – the winter has been long and unforgiving. The meteorologists are calling for more snow tonight, and Friday’s weather seems to have been a fluke. However, my jorts have escaped the bin under my bed. They’re hanging in my closet, and they will travel with me to Orlando next weekend. When we return, Jorts Season 2011 will be even closer. I can’t wait to see where I will take them this year.