Sensible Shoes: The Shape of Footprints
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| Photo Credit: Marcusram on Flickr The one consistent observation I've made everywhere I've been lately is that fabulous footwear is in. Women of all ages are hobbling around in 3-inch heels, and that makes me feel like a real trend-setter. See, I wore crippling clodhoppers before it was cool. Those closest to me know that I can most always be counted on to show up in ridiculously inappropriate footwear. To give an example, I dug up a story I wrote the first year I was in Vegas. |
The day started like any other. I woke up, had my coffee and wondered how many days were left before the Vegas heat would hold me hostage to the air conditioner. The clock on that kind of freedom was ticking, so I decided on a whim to hit the road. Threw on some clothes, slipped on the nearest shoes, and pointed my car North. I howled out of the sunroof on the lonely road through the desert. What a beautiful day it was! The sky had been colored with crayons beyond the silhouette of the mountains. Treasured patches of green poked through the otherwise hopelessly brown landscape. And Jerry Garcia sang about the Golden Road.
The park was crowded with people who don't take spring for granted. Traffic was dense for miles before the entrance, but the splendor of sights to come was well worth the wait. If nature is art, Zion is the Getty. I parked at the first designated attraction and got out of the car. It sounded as if Shirley Temple had just shown up on set: Tap, click-clack. Tap, click-clack. People were all around. Why were mine the only footsteps you could hear? I wasn't at all uncomfortable in my shoes. But I realized I was uncomfortable in my skin as I surveyed the footwear of my fellow tourists, and examined my which-one-of-these-things-is-
I tip-toed through a few more stops on the scenic route, and decided I couldn't live with myself for not coordinating the experience well. The serendipitous side of me always takes a beating when I think others are looking. So I went into town - a sweet place that exists mainly because travelers do. Postcards and hats. T-shirts and magnets. There had to be a pair of shoes around there somewhere. I found a shop that catered to my particular emergency. They had a wide variety of Tevas in a small variety of sizes. I'm ashamed to admit that I bought a pair that didn't fit my feet just because they did fit the crowd. Like a couple of Christmas hams, my size 8 feet got strapped into some size 6 sandals, and I walked into my new life as a happy camper with my toes kissing the pavement. My chin was held high. I was prepared for anything now.
But sunset was the grim reaper, and I couldn't help but notice that take-two through the natural wonder was just as magical as my first ill-clad journey. I drove around in the wrong sized, right shoes and scarcely got out of the car. Man, I'd wasted precious time.
So the inevitable darkness came, and I wanted to experience that too. After stalling at dusk to see the stars before the long trip home, I lay on the hood of my car. With my legs hanging over the edge of the Honda, and my toes hanging over the edge of my new sensible shoes, I realized that it doesn't matter what shape your footprints are as long as you bother to make them in the first place.
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I really like this one. And you are right - Zion is indeed the Getty.
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Thank you! There are so many natural art galleries in this part of the country, and it's changed my life to be able to visit them.
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