"The Tell of the Shoes"

It snowed heavily in the city last Friday.  So of course I stayed in my apartment most of the day but in early evening I had to get out so I walked a block up to 2^nd Avenue where I sat drinking coffee in a Starbucks looking out on the wintry landscape. The street corner was right outside my window so I had a close unobstructed view of the corner of 2^nd and 81^st. What caught my attention the most were people’s shoes. Almost everyone had on some kind of coat, hat, scarf, and gloves but the difference about them was their shoes. Let me explain:

At the corner a slushy, watery puddle (more like a pool) had developed. It was about 5 feet wide and 2 3 feet long. It was dirty, slushy water about 6 inches deep. You couldn't help but notice it if you were going to cross the street. I watched for about an hour and a half as many people, some solo and others in groups approached the watery pit. The shoes they wore determined how they crossed the street.

More than a few (surprisingly) approached the water wearing only tennis shoes. It seemed like a bad idea on a day of heavy sleet/snowfall and with the temperature around 30. But here they came slip/sliding their way up to the puddle. Most of them were males and they had their hands (and shoes) full trying to figure a way around the swamp.  One or two of them did pirouettes and high wire type walking and managed to not get their feet drenched. However, most of them fell in anyway, gimping home, Amos McCoy style, with soaked tennis shoes and feet. Conversely, the women wearing the popular rubber boots up to their knees gleefully had no such worries. They stepped right in the puddle, splashed and just kept on going. Their reward (for being prepared) was dry feet, no gimping.

I saw a family of three approaching the water and their little boy of maybe two was trudging right along.   He really was cute in his snow jacket and hood, his galoshes and gloves. None of the little kids seem to be the least concerned with the weather.  It's just Friday to them but this one kid I mentioned above reached the puddle and stopped dead in his tracks. To him the puddle must have looked like Lake Erie. There was no way he going to go near that brown freezing water. His parents encouraged him to go around but he wouldn't move. No amount of coaxing got him to take a chance. All of a sudden his father scooped him up into his arms and carried him across and set him down. I imagined he has learned early in life that when faced with a big hurdle his parents will be there to help.

The really, really old people fascinated me. They would gingerly approach the curb (water) and you could see the internal strategy meeting taking place right in front of you.  They weren't nimble enough to jump over, long legged enough to try the reach over, or devil may care enough to simply go forward and whatever happens, happens. No, these are grizzled problem solvers.  Some went left (around it) and some right but none went over or through it. I thought to myself, now I know why they are really, really old they problem solve, and plan ways to survive. They probably do cross words or put puzzles together. One really old woman with plastic looking overshoes (galoshes) came up to the puddle. She was already walking very carefully like she was going through a mine field, and she decided to go way around it. Fine except this took her out into the nearest car lane a bit. There wasn't much traffic but the one step every 5 seconds method didn't seem like a good idea to me.  After taking her pokey steps and getting half way there a man came hurrying through, saw her and went back for her. He successfully and I might say more hurriedly guided her to the curb.  Good Karma Mr.

Then there was the woman in the high heels. Oh yes, dressed to the nines in a mid-knee length mini skirt, with nylons and heels. I’m guessing she decided (that morning) to hell with the weather because she had Stan down in Accounts Receivable to impress and that meant wear the skirt and heels. Whether or not she got Stan’s attention during the day she now had the dangerous and cold job of getting home in the dark on snowy, icy sidewalks in high heels. At first she thought her long legs might make it possible for her to step across the water, but she quickly realized that was a disaster waiting to happen.  

next she contemplated leaping (I saw her measuring the distance and begin to coil up) but she wisely saw the law of averages were stacked against her on that move. Resigned to it, the only thing she could do was retrace her steps back a block from where she had come, cross the street there and then come back in my direction. To her it must have been a price she was willing to pay to wear the skirt and heels, and who knows it could be especially if Stan begins to look at her as his own personal Accounts Receivable.

I love the teenage boys that came through because they were carrying skateboards and had the least weather gear of any. A lite jacket, skate shoes (that is to say over priced sneakers), no hat, scarf or gloves for these fearless characters. They quickly jumped over the water trusting to their young, light, wiry bodies, and their coordination to see them through. They seemed to know they were strong, fit and they must have thought that if they could slide down a steel railing on a skate board landing hard on cement and live to tell about it a slush puddle isn't even worth thinking about.

I found it fascinating that it seemed awfully important to the younger women to not only wear warm clothing but more importantly stylish clothing. One must still look good. So they wore the “in style boots”, the stretch tights and jackets with fur collars. In some cases their long hair cascaded down from out their fur collars and a most wore stylish, colorful ear bands. I guess their thinking was that if you have to walk in cold weather, go like Julie Christie in Dr. Zhivago. Exactly the opposite for the older people. They came braced for the elements and they didn't seem to care what their grab bag thrift store apparel looked like. They wanted to get where they were going in one piece and as quickly as their small, anxious steps could get them there. Style be damned. 

The two persons I felt the most sympathy for were two business men that came up at different times. These guys appeared to be out of it; I am guessing Wall Street types. What else would explain them walking down this wet, cold, icy sidewalk dressed all wrong in their black dress shoes, suit pants and coat, shirt and tie. No overcoat, hat, scarf, umbrella, and no gloves. It’s as though they didn't even realize its winter. Like maybe they had stepped out of the exchange at 5  pm and said, “What’s this”? They looked cold and miserable but I figured, well at least they have the money to get a cab and avoid the damn puddle all together.  But to their credit (or not) they didn't call a cab; they tromped right across trying to not get too wet. It didn't work because both got one full shoe in the water up to their ankles. To them a destroyed Bruno Mali dress shoe was just the cost of doing business.

I saved the best for last. One woman approached the corner dressed again in heels. This wasn't going to be an easy cross. So rather than even try to cross at this corner she waited about 20 seconds for the light to change and then peering long up the street and seeing no traffic coming down she began walking right across and down the street in a 45 degree angle. She was completely out of the crosswalk. She completely forged a new trail, and she was the only one to even think of doing that. Not only did she make it across but when she got to the other side she easily stepped up onto the sidewalk at a point where no one had worn away the snow. Brilliant!!  She was Charles Lindbergh, Amelia Earhart, Commodore Perry, and Columbus all rolled into one.