As promised . . . though I hope I didn't overstate the humor.

One night I was shopping late without my kids back in the Colorado era of our lives. As I strolled down the diaper / feminine protection aisle, I came to the prophylactics. I’ve often wondered why these seem to appear with the diapers from time to time—fair warning perhaps? I like that they tend to place them near the feminine hygiene. I like to wander down that aisle when some young man is standing there uncomfortable eyeing the condoms. I stand a few feet away and carefully contemplate the tampons. He’ll usually feel so uncomfortable he’ll grab and go, or do an aisle loop, waiting to be alone again. I’d like to make some helpful suggestion to him about the various options he’s considering, but though I have that kind of sense of humor, I just don’t have the courage to carry it out.

Anyway, this particular evening I was alone and thought—gee, this is the perfect time to make such a purchase myself as I would not have to answer any questions like “Mommy, what’s in that box?” or “Will you share with me?” So, I went up to the section and suddenly noticed that there were little locks on the ends of the product display hooks. A bit dramatic I thought. But, I had encountered stores where the pregnancy tests were kept under lock and key, being a frequently pilfered item, so it wasn’t terribly surprising that they might lock up the condoms as well. What did seem odd was that they weren’t actually behind glass and there was but a thin piece of cardboard suspending each package from it’s hanger. I imagined that any determined thief could just yank a package off and stuff it in their pants with little trouble. In fact, I considered doing just that (except the stuffing it in my pants part). Then I wondered if I’d get chastised at check-out. I considered just skipping the purchase, but then thought, no, I am a grown up. I am allowed to buy a box of condoms and no get all giggly or embarrassed about it. So, in the next aisle, I flagged down the stocker who couldn’t have been more than 16. I wondered if just asking him about the locked up condoms might make him a bit giggly—I was very wrong. He stepped out to the end of the aisle and yelled up to the cashier up front. “HEY! WHERE’S THE CONDOM KEY?!” To which the cashier responded “SAM HAS IT!” then proceeded to page Sam overhead. “SAM, PLEASE BRING THE CONDOM KEY TO AISLE 6!”

So my new teenage friend and I waited patiently next to the prophylactics for the magic key to arrive. I made small talk about them being locked up and considered whether I’d need to show ID. He patiently explained that they are frequently stolen. After a couple of minutes Sam came out and explained that the key was missing. So, the teenager and I discussed whether I’d like the ribbed or lubricated and then ripped the box off the prong—just as I had almost done myself. I then proceeded to the check out where the cashier asked me if they had helped me get what I needed. I said yes and asked if he needed to see my identification. He said “Yes, and a note from your mother please.” We had a nice laugh as he explained that they are frequently stolen. Then I carried my groceries out to my car.

Why is it that the subject of condoms makes me a bit giggly? I think it started back in college (It’s not what you think, I went to BYU). I had a roommate who attended some education student convention outside of BYU where they distributed condoms (perhaps as an example of the current method of sex education in the country—maybe that’s where they get the idea that they shouldn’t have to pay for prophylactics or pregnancy tests). The one she received was blue. We affectionately named it Big Blue and tacked the package to the wall in our bedroom. I think we mostly did it because it was sure to annoy our Italian roommate (who refused to say “Sheets” or “Beach” but was known to have spoken of the lovely little row of condoms (condominiums) down the street). We spoke often and reverently of our friend Big Blue.

Then again, maybe it was the quarter I spent studying abroad in England. I lived in a dirty little basement flat with three other girls. We weren’t all that familiar with “old world” plumbing and none of us was quite sure why there was this little thing in the back of the toilet that jiggled every time we flushed, but we just assumed it was all part of the set up. It wasn’t until just before we left for home that someone realized it was actually a condom wedged up in the back of the toilet. Gross. Weren’t we naïve BYU co-eds.

The giggling continued at my wedding reception. Friends decorated Matt’s car with great distaste. As we drove away it started raining and realized our wipers were useless when covered with a condom each. There were matching prophylactics scattered throughout the vehicle (when we sold it, we wondered if we’d ever found them all) including a nice one stretched over the gearshift.

Then there was the time shortly after I was married that I was traveling with my husband. As an afterthought, I stuck a couple in my pocket on the way out the door. Silly me, I forgot about the foil packaging and after being wanded repeatedly at security, I pulled them out of my pocket and waggled them in front of the TSA agent--Very giggly embarrassing experience.

Now that I think of it, it just may date all the way back to my senior prom. (It’s not what you think either—my date came out of the closet shortly after graduation—ah, the effect I have on men). On our way to the dance we and the other two couples with us, some how decided it would be very funny to stop at the grocery store, all dressed for prom, and buy a large box of condoms. In any other location, this may not have been terribly funny or out of the ordinary, but we were in Bountiful Utah which is more Mormon than BYU. We then proceeded to prom. We left a few of them under the windshield wipers of cars we recognized in the parking lot. Things got more entertaining inside however as my date would walk up to slow-dancing couples and slip one in between them. The highlight of the evening perhaps was on the way home when we went “brighting” at make-out point. This involves driving up behind parked cars and flipping on your brights, then giggling. Surprisingly, there were no cars there that evening. We were just about to turn around and leave when another vehicle approached. We cut our lights and all six of us ducked out of sight in my date’s parents’ station wagon. The vehicle pulled up behind us and as one, we all began to rock the station wagon. Their brights hit us and my date opened a condom, rolled down the window and threw it out at the other car. We giggled a lot and the car drove away.

On an interesting side note, did you know that in most professional theatres you can find an industrial sized box of condoms somewhere in the costume shop (no, it’s not for what you’re thinking either). They’re actually perfect for protecting body microphone packs from shorting out next to sweaty actors’ bodies. Go figure.