A MORRISON MONDAYS birthday tribute to CREIG FLESSEL… By BILL MORRISON You’ve heard the old adage, “Never meet your heroes”? Well, I’d like to offer a slightly modified version, “Never meet your heroes… in the men’s room… or maybe do!” Naturally, such a loaded maxim must have an anecdote behind it, and indeed, it does. In 2003, I attended the National Cartoonists Society’s annual Reuben Awards weekend, which was in San Francisco that year. My fellow NCS members and I had taken over the Palace Hotel, where most of our weekend activities transpired, including the Saturday night awards banquet. This affair is, as always, strictly black tie, and as I rode the elevator down to one of the ballrooms for the pre-dinner cocktail party, I caught my reflection in one of the vertical mirror strips that lined the walls of the lift. I was wearing a wing-collar shirt with a black bowtie, and I saw that one side of the tie was behind the collar, and the other in front of it. Plus, it was crooked. I fiddled with the tie for a moment to no avail before arriving at the floor, and decided to head to the men’s room so I could adjust it with the help of a proper mirror. Standing at the sink, I found myself alone in the lavatory, except for a tall, older gentleman who was likewise attired in a tuxedo, and also adjusting part of his suit. In this case however, the man was trying to do up his trousers. His tuxedo pants had those side tabs at the waistband that do the job of a belt or suspenders, and he was struggling to get them tightened. I glanced over at him, and uttered a polite “Hello,” and he responded likewise, adding “Boy, I can’t seem to figure out how these tuxedo pants work.” I’m a naturally helpful type, and before I could stifle myself, I responded, “I’ve worn those before. Maybe I can help.” As the words were leaving my mouth, I thought “Oh man, I hope he refuses my offer. This could get weird!” But alas, the man replied, “If you could, I would appreciate it.” A moment later, I found myself on one knee in front of a stranger in the men’s room, my eyes at crotch level. The elderly...