Sandal Scandal

A few weeks ago, Z and I were headed to watch the 1 man show by Those Indian Guys at the Soho Playhouse when as I crossed 6th Avenue, my sandal broke. It literally fell apart.

I blocked the scene from Sex and the City when Charlotte meets Trey and focused instead on all the times I'd been crossing the street alone and sandals had threatened to break but held on.

I hobbled and he slowly, calmly accompanied me across the street to a deli/convenience store of sorts whence I purchased duct tape. We borrowed scissors from the confused Chinese owner and he proceeded to fix my shoe for me. In that moment, I was a total damsel in distress. Not my MO. But he totally came to my rescue.

The original fix didn't hold, so he gave it another go and used up almost 1/4 of the roll of tape to ensure the sandal would last through the night.

The serendipity of being across thes street from a venue purveying duct tape--that American panacea--cannot be fully expressed.

We stumbled into a small cheese shop run by a Bangladeshi man who opened his locked store as I stood outside the glass door pouting. He even gave me a gratis hunk of cheese and a roll for free. Z had to pay for his enormous sandwich--the snack that turned into dinner. We talked to the kindly owner for a while as he prepared the sandwich. He'd recently opened and business was very tough in these economic times.

I just threw those sandals away after letting them sit beside my door and eyeing them with Z gratitude for getting me home shoefully. It was another unexpected turn with my favorite non-date.

He's just back from Tunisia so WCC should pick back up next week. Maybe a free outdoor movie is in our future.