Today I decided that I couldn't put it off another day. I had to go and buy new shoes. This was no casual shoe-shopping venture. This was a code red, "you should get down here now if you want to say your goodbyes" footwear emergency. A critical, shoes-aren't-going-to-last-the-hour situation. NFL running back Ryan Moats got nabbed by the cops as he sped to see my shoes one last time. He didn't make it. That's how bad my shoes were.
Now, I swear by Chuck Taylors and have been for years. It's a comfortable shoe despite failing in the waterproof department. It's one of the few types of shoes that don't look completely out of place on me. Dirty hippies don't wear Air Jordans very often. So I wanted a new pair of Chucks.
I haven't bought a new pair in probably 3-4 years. And I guess things have changed since I went shoe-shopping last. I went to the "B-list" sports store where I got my last pair and walked to the the shoe section as the sole of my left shoe clopped along the floor, slowly but surely breaking away from the rest of the shoe. My left shoe looked like
this, only the rip went further, all the way around the back to the outside of the shoe.
When I got to the shoe section, I walked up and down the display wall several times, seeing heaps of overly flashy basketball shoes, but no Chucks. What the fuck? Ironically,
the basketball shoe has been discontinued and all that's left is a bunch of bullshit shiny crap.
A little bit annoyed, I left the store because I had driven over half an hour to the other side of a busy, lunch-hour town. I drove back through town to the mall that would have only taken me 15 minutes to get to originally. I wondered to myself which stores would be best to check first because most stores would be bloody expensive. I'm a thrift store shopper and I'm used to buying hobo clothes for 5 dollars or less.
Zellers, Sears, and the Bay all had nothing. I should note that a guy like me generally seems out of place in any store in the mall besides the music store. I discovered that the Bay is not exactly targeted towards my kind. I feel quite certain that the store was ready to inform the police department of a young man shuffling through the perfume department, appearing homeless and possibly on narcotics. It's a presentable women's store, is my point.
At this time I realize I'm left with the choice of going home and improvising some serious shoe repair or manning up and visiting a sports store in the mall. My left shoe is about to buy the farm here. I'm either leaving the mall with a new pair of shoes on my feet or I'm going to be walking back to the car in my socks. Fuck it, I go to Foot Locker.
Me experience there wasn't as horrible as it could have been, but I still felt uncomfortable. I spotted the familiar canvas shoe on the top shelf and looked around for "friendly customer assistance." There were two girls working there and one was helping someone else. I talked to the other and she said she was helping someone as well. So I waited by my future shoes. And waited. These were two heavy-duty customers apparently. But no biggie. I didn't have to be anywhere.
Finally the girl I didn't talk to before came over and asked me if I needed help. I told her what size and what shoe I was looking for and waited while she searched the so-called "locker" in the back. I picture a school locker only many sizes larger and all the shoes are kept inside, secured by a giant novelty padlock.
As I was waiting all this time I had to listen to shitty, Auto-Tuned, R&B or whatever they're calling it. You know, with some suave black guy singing soulfully over horrid beats and saying "Girrrl" a lot? They always wear sunglasses and have thin beards? No?
Well, I got my shoes and they fit well and all the rest. The girl said she'd ring them up at the front and I proceeded to change back into my old shoes. RRRIIPP. Not happening. As I put my left shoe on, it came to terms with itself and walked into the light at the end of the tunnel. Not a second too soon, I thought. I'd be wearing the new shoes right out of the store.
I walked up to the register with my shoes under my arm and there's someone paying. After a second I realize they're not paying. They're bitching. Trying to get a refund. Just perfect. The girl is telling this guy store policies and apologizing and all the rest and he just isn't getting it. After a minute he realizes there is a homeless-looking kid standing behind him in sock feet. Maybe he has a stroke of sympathy and reflects on the sad state of this world in which a person so, so young has finally scrimped up enough money to afford a pair of shoes. But he let me go ahead of him. And I thought, "Take that, personal hygiene!"
Thankfully the shoes weren't overly expensive. At least not as much as I thought I might be paying at Foot Locker. Plus I used a gift card so I didn't pay that much at all. But this experience has taught me that I should give my shoes some time to enjoy retirement. My left shoe died in battle today as it dreamed of playing shuffleboard in Florida. It's something no shoe or it's family should ever have to go through.
