Don’t get the wrong idea -- I don’t wish to cast any fashion judgment on those who wear comfy clothing. Sure, you might have to worry about those big, billowy pockets getting picked. But as I discovered last week, the New York City subway furnishes a hazard equally as heinous as ending up with less cargo in your cargo pants: ending up with more cargo.

It all started when something bumped my ankle. Since New York City is crawling with moneyed parents who don’t have any control over their undisciplined kids, I figured a young one ran into me. Or maybe one of his toys rolled my way.

But when I looked down, I didn’t find a kid. Or a toy. Instead, I met eye to eye with a hairy, quivering rat trying to climb up my pant leg. At this point, I employed evasive maneuvers in the form of what I call the Hey Now Dance. For those of you who wish to try this at home (or if you live in a public transit-free area), you first jump in the air, slightly kicking your legs apart, but not too far, since you don’t want to injure your fellow rush hour passengers. While looking down to make sure the rodent hasn’t matched your dance steps move for move (rodents are a lot smarter than most of the animals that humans like to eat!), yell “Hey now.” Repeat until your fellow passengers learn the dance too. Note: don’t scream. You don’t want to cause a stampede, now do you?

Some of you might be thinking: why my pant leg? What exactly did I have in my pants that the rat wanted? Only the rat knew for sure, but I would imagine he was just looking for a place to hide. A little chill time away from the stress of navigating around all those bipeds that can’t stand the looks of him. Or it might have been that I had waited for my lunch in front of a charcoal grill shortly before I went on the platform; and to a critter whose regular diet consists of old gum wrappers, I must have smelled irresistibly burgerlicious.

In the end, the indifferent fate of the laundry cycle saved me, for while I have cargos, they had not come around in the weekly rotation yet. I wore jeans yesterday. Snug they were -- not Robert Plant-snug, but tight enough to discourage a marginalized mammal from clawing his way into warm, mobile refuge. Thus I avoided the inconvenience of having to take my pants off on the platform. Always wear clean underwear, though, just in case.