Originally posted to MySpace on:
May 15, 2008
So my favorite shoes broke a few minutes ago. Okay, my only shoes—or at least the ones I actually wear. I went out for one of my usual midnight strolls through the ghetto for my early thirties exercise (we tend to need that a lot more when a third of our lives are gone), when I felt something weird between my toes. I looked down to see—
Actually, I wasn’t in the ghetto anymore. I had to walk through the ghetto to get to the store, but walk past the store to reach the canal where the two homeless guys sleep on the embankment, camping out with a radio (and fishing poles, or something like that—it’s hard to tell in the dark). Then I had to keep walking beyond the canal to reach the traffic light that leads into the walled city. It was there where I felt the something weird between my toes.
Yes, there’s a walled city around the corner from my house. It’s called Atlantis, FL; feel free to Google it.
So, with the border of Atlantis just a few feet to my left, a silent highway to my right, and hard sidewalk to my front, back, and at the base of my feet, I stopped. I looked down to see the toe flap, the very thing keeping my foot attached to the sandal, split in two. And I still had to walk back.
Well, I’m back now, obviously, so no harm there; but now I have a decision to make. I can’t really wear the sandals in their current condition, as another split might ruin the shoe. So I have to fix them. But how? Do I get them sewed together? That’s possible; the toe flap is made of cloth. Or I could go the easier road and tape them together. Masking tape might blend in with the natural earth colors the flip-flop is made of (after I color it with a brown marker). My last option, of course, is to open an E-Bay account and see what I can get for them. With gas reaching four bucks a gallon, I could use the extra help; though, I’d have to go around town barefoot.
The flip-flops are on the bottom of the page. If you look closely, you can see the broken flap on the sandal to the left.
Also, ignore the other shoes. The black ones are my work shoes; the rest I’ve had since the nineties.