A Serious Shoe Emergency

Sandalabra!

There's 911 for life-threatening emergencies. There's 411 for info emergencies. Sadly, there's no number to call for yesterday's epic shoe emergency. Sure, I knew my sandals were old. I may have bought them in the last decade. Or the one before. Honestly, without the necessary shopping receipts, the DNA, if you will, I had no idea. I put on the ancient platforms and off I went to Studio City to meet my friend Judd at the deli, where every sandwich is a work of Art. I parked on a side street, I walked half a block, maybe less, and oy to the vey, just like that, my right sandal broke, as in came apart, a shocking crime with many eye witnesses. 

"Ohmygawd, ohmygawd," said a stylish young gal, shielding her eyes. 

"Whoa, dude, look at that," said a tattooed guy, pointing at the evidence.

"I can't look, it's too awful," said a workman schlepping equipment into a van. 

"Oh, dear God in heaven! Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?" said no one. 

All I could do was laugh at my misfortune and seek a quick solution. I still had a few minutes before meeting Judd. I knew what I had to do.

"Help, I have a shoe emergency," I told the sales gal in the shop around the corner. 

She stared in wonder. "That's... wow... that's..."

"I know, it really is. I need sandals, STAT!"

"We're out of sandals. We're into fall now."

"Fall? But... okay, whatever, give me something for fall. And make it snappy!"

"What size are you?"

"Six."

The sales gal behind the counter weighed in. "Try these in a five-and-a-half."

"My whole life, salespeople have been trying to talk me into five-and-a-half. I'm a six. A six, I tell ya!"

"But they run big."

"Gimme a six, and step on it. This is a crisis, capiche? I got four minutes to get to the deli."

Fifty bucks later, adorned in my new slip-on sneakers, just like the 14 other slip-on sneakers in my closet, only much cheaper, and I now have the blisters to prove it, I entered Art's, and there was Judd, sitting in a booth, the picture of serenity, flipping through a book and sipping lemonade. As I told him how I lost my sole on the sidewalk, he nodded wisely, reached into his magical brain and pulled out a quote from the Robert Stone novel, "Dog Soldiers" (later used in the movie version, "Who'll Stop The Rain"). The gist of it: In the I Ching, the Chinese symbol for crisis is the same as opportunity. "You know me so well," I said. "It was indeed a crisis and I took the opportunity to buy a new pair of shoes." "Of course, you did," he said. "Otherwise, I would've hobbled into Art's all lopsided and ridiculous. I can't do that here, of all places. They'd never let me back in." "Probably not. Bagel chip?" "Maybe later."