My wallet is in my other boxers

I have a Captain Underpants book. I have a shirt that says, in Spanish, Where are my pants? One of my favorite pieces of art, which used to hang in my bathroom, is simply a sign. It is painted with a charmingly unsteady hand, and in the style of "Beware of Dog" signs of chain-link fence fame, it states:

No Pants.

So, you can imagine how much I loved hearing from one of my friends about the "No Pants" annual tradition here in NYC. Every year, a group called Improv Everywhere organizes a pant-less subway trip. It is well-organized, and this year brought out over 150 people. If a participant is asked why he/she is not wearing pants by a fellow rider, they say that they forgot. Then someone comes through the subway cars selling pants for a dollar. It is inspired, and its existence may well be the universe telling me that I moved to the right place.

Incidentally, the police were involved this year. The name of one of the arresting officers?

Officer Panton.

Despite any claims to the contrary, there are some things that are right with the world.

No Pants 2K6