While hiking through Spain, I stayed in hostels designated specifically for pilgrims. I was forced to participate in this communal boarding situation because Europeans don’t accept equal value for the Dollar, even if you inform them that the amount of cocaine nestled in American greenbacks more than makes up for the dismal exchange rate.

Liberal attire, even by European standards.
But I digress.
Staying in the same room with dozens of Europeans on a nightly basis, I began to see some patterns. For instance, everywhere I turned I saw little black panties. Unfortunately the loins on which they were precariously girded belonged almost exclusively to middle-aged men.
[Disturbing, hyphenated adjectives] Sparsely leg-haired, Grover-bodied (pot-bellied, skinny everywhere else) middle-aged men. And the offending undergarments-cum-outer-torment weren’t boxers, mind you. Not boxers, not even briefs, but hip-hugging, perma-wedgied, black satin manties. [/disturbing, hyphenated adjectives]
That’s right, manties. Man + Panties = Manties.
If you’re European, male, and between the ages of 30 and dead, you’re wearing them right now. Don’t deny it.
But what can you, the modest pant wearing American do to prevent further outrage to the senses when visit countries less fortunate than ours? I have no idea. I just felt it unfair that I had to bear the constant barrage while everyone else spent their nights idly not being forced to watch men parade about in overripe banana hammocks.
Also, it was a great reminder that the United States is the best country in the world, a country where we have the freedom to force other people to feel bad about their freedom, thereby ensuing that tiny undies will always be frowned upon by opinionated Americans everywhere. God bless America. Now put some pants on.
