Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Or something like that. I haven't been blogging much because I started a new job, and it's taking up all my time. I haven't even shopped for shoes. The HORROR.
One of the many good things about my new job is that there are many women there who love shoes. A lot. There are fabulous shoes walking around that office on a regular basis.
Which leads me to the story I must tell. One of my new colleagues told me this story the other day, and I knew I had to share it. She graciously has allowed me to post it here.
R is Columbian. She travels there regularly to visit family and friends. When she was a teenager, she was taking a bus trip with her father, her friend, and her friend's mother. So they're driving down a mountain in a bus. Apparently, the bus had brake problems. The driver knew this, and was being careful as he drove down the mountain. Not careening at a high rate of speed, or anything like that. It was raining. The bus hit a slick spot, the brakes failed, and the bus flipped over into a ditch filled with water.
R remembers getting out of the bus. Her friend was out of the bus as well, screaming for her mother. R realized that she couldn't walk properly. "Was she hurt?" you ask. No, thank God. She had lost one of her shoes. Shoes she was fond of. So she did what any of us would do. She started to look for it. Which involved crawling back into the bus to search for it amidst the muck and detritus of the accident. She finally finds it floating along and puts it back on.
She then sees her dad draped over her friend's mom, passed out. Her friend's mom is trying to push him off her. Her friend is still screaming for her mother. But R has her shoe.
Her dad woke up, he was fine, got off her friend's mom, and everyone got out, none the worse for the wear, just bumps and bruises. And a recovered shoe.
R is my kind of woman.
Charles Daved 'Whist' Sandal
Monday, June 05, 2006