My son's first kilted outing was several weeks ago at the Black Watch concert. Our seats were on the second level, up a long flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs a bar was set up and lots of folks standing around waiting for drinks. He got to the foot of the stairs and stopped. I asked what was the matter and he just muttered "stairs...why'd there have to be stairs?" He's about 6'3" and all legs, so a flash was a genuine possibility. He asked if I would walk behind him. I reminded him that he had on boxers (15-year-old-shyness) and I was quite regimental. He wasn't moved by this, so up we went. About half way up there was the sound of a drink hitting the floor and other general mayhem. I didn't look back to see what had happened, but he's convinced that I caused the rukus. We'll never know, but he's since spread the story pretty thickly among friends and family, much to my wife's dismay.