After a moment of panic and embarrassment due to my missing pants, a much more electrifying panic set in when I realized the pant thief was also a wallet thief. Putting disgusted stares aside, I jumped up and flew through the terminal in search for my pants. Fortunately, I was wearing boxers. Unfortunately, they featured images of Homer Simpson. I always wore my favorite underwear when I traveled. Never had I anticipated I would be running through an international terminal half-naked.
I wondered how someone could swipe my slacks while I was sleeping. While I contemplated all the ways a perverted stranger could discretely remove my pants, I realized the most obvious question was: why? At this instant, I felt the pressure of the ground beneath me dissipate and my body felt weightless. When I looked down, I saw the tiles of the terminal floor move further and further beneath me as I elevated five feet, then 10 feet, then 20. Could I be dreaming? ... This suspicion disappeared when the all too-real pain set in as I smashed into the ground. I took a second to gather myself and then I looked up. Tristana was standing in front of me holding my straight-line khakis. Her eyes penetrated mine mischievously as she said "You passed the first test."