I was walking to work on July 4th. I worked as a clerk at a little convenience store in a just-off-the-road tourist trap in Montana. I'd never been so much as five feet out of the state line, and even then, it was just on a dare. Not even a double-dare at that.
Well, I was about two blocks away from my store when I failed to notice the light turn green. I would have noticed, but my eyes were glued to the tits slow-motion bouncing away across the street. What did foreigners have against bras? That sort of thing should be illegal.
It took five seconds for Bill to realize he had hit me. Unfortunately for me, Bill was also distracted by the slow-motion tits. But for him, it was less about the gravity of the situation, and more about the, "How do they move so slow? Oh god, I hope he isn't bleeding."