Because it's a lousy flier.
Shoes. Some people live to shop for shoes. Some people find shoes to be the be-all end-all of their existence. Me, I'd be happy if I never had to wear the damnable things ever again.
I was raised in the country by people without a lot of money. Shoes were a necessary thing for town and church and school, but buy shoes just to play outside? Hah. Sooner wish for a podiatrically-inclined pony to show up on the doorstep and crap you a pair of British Knights because the chances of that happening are greater than the 'rents buying you some.
Okay, so it wasn't THAT bad. I didn't wear them as a kid and never became a clothes horse. I grew up barefoot. Loved the feel of grass and mud and water and the sunshine on my feet. Could have been a freaking hobbit if only I hadn't grown to 72" tall. Didn't wear shoes all that much until school started and that's when the trouble started. You see, not being bound and deformed in a pair of shoes as a kid my feet grew as they should, which is to say wide and long. So now I've got to suffer when going shoe shopping. Nothing fits because everything is too narrow, made for someone who was born in a pair of lace-ups and wore wingtips their entire childhood, even in the shower. So I end up buying larger lengths in the vain hope of getting a wider pair. Down here the term "wide width" only applies to mobile homes and elderly aunt's arses, and shopping online for shoes seems a little risky, especially because I can't very well fit my clodhopper into the monitor and wiggle my toes around.
What brought this on, you ask? Glad you asked, otherwise this post was going to keep going nowhere.
I brought my work shoes home to polish them, you see, but the hound from hell got one of the two and gnawed. Not much, nothing that couldn't be ignored or buffed out with some polish and elbow grease except for the fact that she managed to chew clean through an eyelet on one pair, the topmost eyelet of only four.
Into the trash went the nicely broken-in pair that had another year left in them at least, and into the truck went me. One trip into town later to hopefully find the one brand/pair/style that I like left me empty-handed and sighing in my sandals (sans socks.) That's the problem, you see. I find something I really like, a pair of shoes or the Pontiac Fiero 2M4 SE with the miniature firebird decal on the hood and by the time I'm ready they're long gone, replaced by something that doesn't quite entirely match at all a bit.
But this time, I got lucky. Found a pair of shoes sitting in half a box on top of the overstock of the shelf that I was beating my head on, possibly dislodged by my self-abuse. I pulled them down, didn't even look at the size, just saw that they looked fairly large, and tried them on. Miracle of miracles? They fit better than anything I've bought before. I was astounded. A freaking house-brand shoe that was priced affordably (that'd be under $40 for me,) looks....well, looks meh but that's okay BECAUSE THEY FIT! Toes not cramped in, not hot and sweaty, and they don't look like I found them in the Salvation Army dumpster. Not much, at least.
So imagine my shock today when I got them to work (I wear a pair of HiTek Magnum boots when riding, leave the work shoes at work) and went to slip them on. It was then that I realised why they fit so well.
They're size 14. Wide.
Must have been special order for someone and either left behind or not picked up yet. Might explain why the half-box had "Kevin" written on it in Sharpie.
Well, Kevin...tough. Mine. They fit, and now they smell like me. My damnable, hated shoes.
When is National Barefoot Month, anyway? And if anyone ever wants to go snow skiing and you're in the neighborhood I've got just the pair of dress shoes for the occasion.
Oh, and since I missed it, Happy Birthday James T. Kirk, July 1st, Some Year In The Future.