It was ghastly, an experience which should not be repeated.
I think you spelled gas tly wrong. Go ahead and tell him but only if he promises I get the shirt out of it. And it probably wasn't the pancakes at all, it was the Kentucky butter and syrup.
If I recall, it was pretty windy the rest of that day anyway.
Windy yes but still seemed like a confined space.
Mike what's up with this shirt already? Please, Ken already posted a photo without one on. My God do we need to see that again? Send him some type of rag already. Otherwise he may eat pancakes when next he sees you.