“We are stopping at the next rest area in 2 miles to use the bathroom. Get everyone ready to go in,” my husband informs me.
I looked down at the floor of the car and see nothing but clean grey carpet.
“Where are my shoes?” I wondered out loud.
Back up about a couple of hours…
When I got home from an excruciating half-day of work, I threw down my dress shoes (Merrell Serene Gloves), took the obligatory pee, and climbed into the car without recognizing I was shoeless.
Being barefoot wasn’t going to be much of a problem for me, if I was desperate, like needing to pee at the rest area, I’d borrow my son’s gigantic shoes. Most of the time we’d be at Gaŗezers Latvian camp. No shoes required.
If I hadn’t planned a spectacular day in Saugatuk to show off the spenders of Michigan to my kids, I would have just said forget it. But, I was wary of entering the Coral Gables restaurant without shoes. Fortunately, my sister loaned me a pair her of sandals.
Unfortunately, those sandals sucked! As in, every time I took a step I made a farting noise from the suction between the arch of my foot and the sole of the shoe. So much for sophisticated browsing through rich, quaint shops. I tried carrying the sandals except when inside of stores or restaurants but it was a 100+ deg F day. I only went five steps on the docks at the yacht club before feeling a burn blister form. I was stuck wearing the sucking shoes.
Ironically, a few days later, my husband and I went to watch a friend’s son’s band play at a bar near the camp. I wore the sucking shoes. 90% of the college kids in the bar with their sun-kissed noses and beach wear were shoeless. Well, when in Rome!