Shoe-Flinging on a Friday

The skies were dropping an irritating drizzle as I peeked out the window this morning to see what the weather was doing. Common sense told me this could turn into a soppy, miserable kind of day and that it would be best to wear flats instead of the leather silettos I had chosen to wear. However, never being one to put too much weight on the sensible factor when it comes to shoes, I opted for fashion over sensibility. I would come to regret that decision.

Since today is Friday and nobody goes to school on Friday (unless you're 40-something and diligent about classes), I was able to park in the lot close to Hauser Hall, where my English class is held. This was another reason that had made me choose the stilettos. On a normal day, I park a quarter of a mile away and trudge through a graveled parking lot and down a maze of sidewalk pathways until I reach my destination -- not a kind environment for heels.

I climbed out of the car and made my way to class, enjoying the sense of well-being and the boost of confidence it gave me to click through the halls. I sat through the lecture, swinging my leather-clad foot elegantly under my desk until the session was over, then headed back outdoors. All went well until I reached the crosswalk of the busy intersection. It was then I regretted the choice of wearing heels instead of flats.

The rain was coming down hard by this time, and I waited impatiently at the curb until the heavy stream of traffic cleared from both directions. Abruptly, a nice lady stopped her vehicle and motioned for me to cross the walkway in front of her. I smiled and waved, mouthing my thanks, then took off at a quick jaunt. Two steps into this attempted run, my right shoe flung off. And it didn't just slide off my foot, it flew off with gusto, sailing through the wet air and landing with a loud clack about 5 yards from me.

Humiliated beyond words, I looked back at the lady in the white van, mouthed my apology, and hopped on one stiletto-clad foot and one bare foot to retrieve my shoe. Then I had to balance insecurely on one leg while I put that shoe back on my foot. And did I mention that my bare foot had small pepples and dirt and water stuck on it from the messy street? Needless to say, that was pretty insignificant to me at the moment as I made one more attempted dash across the street.

Traffic resumed its flow and I hobbled up the sidewalk to my car, not quite so confident as I had been just a few hours before. I had paid the price for fashion. Embarrasment.