Warning: There’s gore in this post thanks to some helpfully descriptive videos from a few horror flicks. You’ve been warrrrrrned…

Hey ladies, listen up. I have NO idea how some of you gals strut around in high heels or any other shoes without socks or other foot protection. I have even more respect for those of you who brave the foibles of poor shoe construction in the name of vanity yet I also now see why some of you spend SO much time and money on the best kicks money can buy. Guys? You who wear socks with those sandals? I used to laugh at you. Oh, how I laughed. Tonight, I’m planning to BE just like you, my new idols. How did I come to this e-feet-phany? Read on, dear reader… read on…

So, I happened to cut a finger while making dinner and that actually saved me from killing myself the next day. Earlier, I decided to clean out a closet and get rid of stuff that didn’t fit. I ended up giving away a few things including four pair of shoes that were too small, but I also found a few that fit I hadn’t worn in a while or at all. One pair was a nice set of Sandro Comfort Walk sort-of sandals (I’m no shoe linguist, kids. Just look at the picture above and call them what you like) and after trying them on, finding they still fit and walking around the house for a bit with them just to make sure my feet weren’t going to be barking at me the next day.

Little did I know I’d be doing the barking when those shoes did the biting…

The next day, I needed to get out to the library to do some work, but I decided to take a nice walk beforehand to break the shows in some more and see how they felt (being COMFORT WALK shoes and all). Before I headed out, I put a bandage on my finger and packed two extras with me. Interestingly enough, I had a pair of socks in my hot little hands before I stepped into those shoes, but tossed them on the bed. My feet needed to feel that fresh NYC air today! Setting out into the reasonable weather (cloudy and warm, but not quite looking as if it was going to rain), I made it just over a quarter mile or so before I felt something clawing at my right ankle…

(thanks, FINWWE!) 

Yep, it was the back of that formerly Comfort Walk shoe rubbing a small hole in my ankle. Well, OK… it wasn’t a HOLE, but a small patch of skin that was peeled upwards by my walking and yep, it was hurting more once I found out. I was a bit annoyed, but I thought I was super lucky for having those extra bandages in my bag. I stopped near a closed shop, broke out bandage number one and carefully applied it over the skin (which wasn’t bleeding, thankfully), checked my left foot (it was fine) and carried on. That lasted for about two and a half blocks before the pain came back. Hobbling off to a streetlamp, I yanked up that right pant leg and saw the stupid bandage had magically stuck itself to the OUTSIDE of my shoe.

Peeling the bandage off my shoe, I stuck it back onto my now slightly bleeding sore spot, checked the other ankle (still holding up) and walked on… this time a little more slowly. As in slower than the old lady with a walker who passed me about a minute later. I made it another two blocks before my left ankle started yelling at me and yep, it was now raw as well. As I was muttering something and wincing, the right ankle decided to kick in with the ouch stuff. I had to practically drag myself to a set of steps by the side of a park to apply that second bandage to the left ankle and reapply the right one. While I’m doing this, A bus rolls by and I’m thinking that every lady on it is probably falling out of their seats laughing at my misfortune.

All I knew was I needed to forge onward to the nearest drug store and buy some better bandages for my ankle or else I’d have to chop my own feet off and hop around on the bloody stumps. As I shuffle-stumbled along like a zombie in nice shoes, I was trying to take my mind off the slipping bandages and the pain and the fact that I just realized that I’d forgotten to take some money with me when I left home. Oops. Fortunately, I did have a bank card in my business card case and the intersection I was lurching to was about three or so blocks from the bank. I had to readjust the bandages before crossing a wide intersection and managed to make it to the bank just as the left bandage fell off and got stuck to the bottom of my shoe when I turned around. Fortunately, that bandage on my finger was still somewhat sticky, so off it went and down it went to that ankle. I wasn’t feeling quite like Paul Sheldon in Misery, but this more feeble sort of pain did make me feel a bit stupid for not yanking on those socks…

(thanks, ibHorrorReviews!) 

There was a CVS Pharmacy a block from the bank, so after a quick withdrawal and another adjustment (right ankle), I slowly hoofed it to the CVS where a smiling greeter was near the door. A mostly cheerful “Welcome to CVS!” hit me in the face and I turned to the red-vested greeter and said (I kid you not) “Do you have Band-Aids here?”, as if any pharmacy worth its salt wouldn’t. I mentally slapped myself in the head and half expected a snarky answer, but fortunately, Smiley McGlasses wanted to keep his job and cheerfully pointed me to Aisle Four. I hadn’t bought any bandages from a drug store in ages (not because I’m invincible or cheap, mind you – I have a nice First Aid kit at home I got via mail order that has a load of bandages), so I was surprised at the insane selection of medicated, non-medicated, waterproof, latex, non-latex, clear, cloth and
other boo-boo cover-ups.

In my delirium, I spent something like five minutes perusing the stock and figuring out what I needed and as I was doing this, some woman with a two kids, one in a stroller comes down the narrow aisle on my right. As I stepped back to let them pass, the kid on foot steps on my left foot as mommy dearest (on a cell phone, of course), rams her stroller into my right ankle. One of those didn’t hurt. She barely looks up and apologizes, getting back to her yakking and turning the corner before I can make like Ignatz from an old Krazy Kat cartoon and hurl my shoe at her head like a brick. I finally made my selection and hobble-hoofed it over to the register… only to find there wasn’t one!

I looked to the left and saw the guy who greeted me helping a cranky customer out with an automated cashier and I started grinning like a crazy man. Well, I’d used automated checkout systems before, so I wasn’t going to be as pissy as the older guy in front of me who wanted to have a real cashier to flirt with or whatever. I did, however note that of the four machines the store had, two only took credit cards and one was out of service, making me wonder what would happen if the place was a lot busier and everyone waiting to pay was expecting to have a live person and not a machine to deal with. The checkout went fine, although the machine was too slow for my pained feet to stand there and listen to every prompt. No, I don’t have a discount card, Yes, I put the item in the bag. Finally done and paid, I cheerily noted to the greeter guy that he too was going to be put out of work by a machine soon enough (which probably didn’t make his day, but he still smiled as I left).

(thanks, Explore Crete! 

Hobbling to a nearby bus stop, I sat down and replaced the old bandages with two fresh ones, hoping that a bus wouldn’t pull up. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and as I got up to arc my way back towards the library, I noticed a small pain on the top of my right foot. It didn’t feel the same as the maddening skin scraping on my ankle, so I ignored it. About three blocks down,those new bandages both failed their test (boo!) and I had to stop and do some adjusting two more times. As I crept up a steep grade and then down, I was passed by a few people who were probably wondering why that guy was walking so funny. I was trying hard not to go down like Talos by this point and was moving so slowly and carefully that when some old lady with a walker breezed past me, I decided to “race” her to the corner just to prove I could still move it it needed.

Yeah, I blew past her pretty good on that long block straightaway, but on the next corner, I had to pull over and sit at another bus stop as my ankles were pretty sore. As I’m resting, the old lady with the walker pulls around that corner and zips past. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her, but getting clobbered with a walker would be a pretty painful thing to have happen. That and I only had one box of bandages. I decided to double up on the latex-free protection, so it was two for each ankle plus I also decided to stick the older ones onto the inside of the shoe where the leather was rubbing against the skin. As I’m doing this, a pack of nurses from a nearby hospital come strolling around the corner and yeah, they saw me tending to my sore paws and got a good laugh in as they passed.

As they passed by giggling, I heard them making little comments which would no doubt make for that “guess what I saw today!” dinner table moment or worse, hairdresser tale that would pass into legend at some point. I had about another half mile or so to go before I hit the library, so onward and at 1/4 impulse power it was, a bit more comfortable, but still crippled. I made it to the second bus stop down before I needed to adjust the bandages again (and save another one that ended up on my shoe) and as I was struggling with that, a bus pulls up and the doors open right in front of me. As I was the only one at that bus stop and no one was getting off, I started waving at the driver to close the doors and take off before the light changed. Well, he closed the doors, but missed the light, so a bus full of folks got to see me mucking about with my bandages and yes indeed, there were a few ladies cracking up at my misfortune.

(thanks,jes8220!) 

As I made my way down another long series of blocks, I realized that the walk was longer than I thought, which is great for exercise and not for terminally whiny ankles that were getting delirious. They started fighting with each other about stupid stuff (por ejemplo: Left Ankle: “Man, someone should invent something that keeps this crap from happening!” Right Ankle: “They DID. They’re called SOCKS!”) and I wanted to just cut both my feet off by this point and carry them around in the bag with my laptop. I think I stopped about three more times before I reached the library and when I finally arrived, I was probably the happiest person on this side of the planet with holes in his damn ankles. I worked well that day.

The trip home, however… the fates conspired against me. Between the bumpier path back, the stone I got in one shoe (surprise!), almost getting run over by a delivery guy on a bike riding on the sidewalk and nearly tripping walking up a single stone step in front of my building, this tale was almost not told. I got those shoes off as soon as I walked in the door and chucked them into the corner of the closet. They’d be coming out at some point in the future, but only with better foot protection. As I rested my tingling ankles and did a bit more writing, it wasn’t until a few hours later that I saw the rather huge and ugly blister on the top of my right foot. Crap. Another souvenir from a terrible decision, but I think I’ll keep it fora few days longer until it does what it’s supposed to do. No use poking more holes in my feet than I already have, right?