Zipcodes and other matters of national importance

Its that time of the year again,when young men(women too before a feminist disapproves) with dreams in their eyes board flights to this land of 2% reduced fat milk and orange blossom honey.So naturally the question of my address came up, for hosting these new kids on the block.Incidentally, with several people of my college coming,it should be fun.But anyway while typing out my address the zip code caught my attention.
What a peculiar word- Zip code.
Instantly my fertile imagination began to conjure up appalling images of zips which open only with codes.What a cataclysm to befall the male bastion, I pondered.If zips were ever coded.Getting my cycle lock opened when its raining itself takes time, as I found out to my anguish a couple of days back.If nature ever puts you on notice, getting the....err..... zip( for once the author is short of words,and his alternatives all appear most inappropriate:) open in time can often be most challenging as most of you must definitely have found out a few times in your life.And imagine a three digit number lock on it, to compound matters.The prospect chills my bones to the very marrow.
And while we are at it let me digress and expound my views about the zip.A most versatile thing,the zip.Have any of you ever wondered why the zip was named the zip?Am sure you never have so I will proceed to elucidate my line of thought. Imagine trying to explain to a 4 year old boy what the zip is,without using the word zip.
The car zipped down the road. He zipped past in his cycle. Are these descriptions based on the the way the"zip" moves? Or indeed is the zip called zip because it goes "zip-zip-zip" when you pull it up or down?Does it indeed go "zip" or are we conditioned to hear it as zip because we named it zip?You see what I mean-I have run rings around you with this profound tautology.
Of course I with my infinite wisdom can define it purely as a mechanism with interlocking teeth moving on a blah blah blah....but the child wont be impressed and probably ask me if I have been eating locoweed.
I can hear cries of people in my mind already, shouting-
chaat! (dismissive)
chattttttttttt !! (irritating)
chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat !!!( means if I could get your neck in my hands right now I would love to apply a sufficiently high moment so that torsional failure occurs:)
The last of these is typically reserved for me when I am in one of these moods. :-) One of my specialities and delights was to extract the above mentioned sentiment from perfectly nice people.Like Montmorency in 3 Men in a Boat, my day is never complete or satisfying if I don't do this to atleast one person.
By the way,the different contextual usages of the word chat is what distinguishes the NITTwit from his lesser brethren.But again if one is a nitwit by nature,you cant teach one to be a NITTwit.So I desist.
But to round up this matter of import-I finally found a solution that allowed me to breathe easy somewhat. I remember when I was a kid,if your..errr..zip wasn't properly zipped up,the concerned person used to be alerted that "his postbox is open".(I desist from talking anymore about this most wonderful metaphor)
And there you have it!! A perfectly close formed solution to our problem! Zip Codes...post boxes...the connection would be obvious even to morons!
For others motivated by this monograph,I would suggest that the word "pin code" as used in India might also yield interesting solutions upon introspection.That might be a rewarding line of thought.In fact if I could I would myself pursue it :)