Shoe Day

Yesterday afternoon, I finally found a new pair of brown shoes on the clearance rack of DSW. For years I've been looking for a comfortable soft-leather pair under fifty bucks that aren't dotted with ridiculous seams or resembling the tasseled loafers every high school boy wears to church, and these were so comfortable that they felt just as broken in as my old shoes.

Thus ends the journey of my old brown shoes, purchased for $19.95 at the Chantilly Payless in 2002, back in the days when I always wore tennis shoes and needed something a bit more classy to project a professorial air while teaching. In that time:

The shoes travelled to Tallahassee, Florida and roamed the halls of Cawthon and Kuersteiner. They ran through the ghetto on the night that I drove a drunk Justin Barron home from Jim Barry's house.

They travelled back to Virginia to the Elms in Centreville for a year, where Kitty would always stick her face in them because my feet smelled so delightful.

They became my defacto heavy labor shoes in the new house in Sterling, back when the pair of sneakers I'd purchased turned out to be horribly uncomfortable (and I was too cheap to get a new pair).

I ran through Georgetown in them once, when I was running late for pit duty in The Mikado at the Ellington Center and misjudged just how atrociously people drove in DC.

I wore them to Philip's wedding, where I ate all of his shrimp.

I wore them to Kathy's wedding, where we drank all of her beer.

I wore them throughout my trip through England, France, and Spain, despite the fact that they destroyed my knee and turned me into a hobbler for most of the trip.

I wore them when I got engaged.

I wore them every single day last week at work.

Seven years isn't bad for a $20 pair of shoes!

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