Ode to a Pair of Flip-Flops

29 Sep

ERE ’twas the dawn of fall in 2012,

And my feet would soon fly ‘cross the country.

“Say,” thought I, “I shalt need some new flippy-floppies for mine feet. I goeth to the Newest of Orleans to supervise teenage voluntourists and I hear the sun doth shine there, even in the midst of November, which is strange to a Chicagoan, but o well.”

I research’d thoroughly, for my feet would not be subject to flat bottoms. Nay, my intrepid travelers shalt always have support, through my mind, and through my arches. Plus I lack’d a significant chunk of change, as I worked one part-time job and one internship of the unpaid variety. So mine shoes must needs have balance between supporting my feet and also my bank account.

For a reasonable price, I found Ye Olde Mallory of Reef. With solid reviews and a reasonable amount of ducats, I order’d them from Zappos and sent a prayer hea’enwards for their safe deliverance.

Lo, in approximately 7-10 business days, my package arriv’d. The guarantees of free return shipping and of a one-year trial yielded unnecessary, as I found myself in the very throes of true love.


Were they not the most beautiful of creatures? Not only were my arches in full support, but the thingy that goeth betwixt mine toes was soft and malleable, much like my heart then. Also the strap was quite soft and did not unpleasantly tug at the top of my foot.

The trip to the Newest of Orleans did then occur, and ’twas a success. Perhaps ’twas more due to the efforts of dozens of teenagers than to my feet, but my feet ’twere shining proudly in their new garb.

With this comfort so closely at hand – or perhaps at foot? – the Reefs carried me ’round the world. ‘Cross Chicago did we go, aye, but onwards to Maui, to Florida, to Israel, to Toronto, back to Israel, to Denver, to Seattle, to New York, to D.C., and back to Israel again.

And thus the good times didst roll. But alas, e’en the truest of love can hardly last without wear, tear, or deflation. I realiz’d that perhaps mine Reefs hain’t the form or the fortitude to continue on, but soldier on they did.

For this very selfsame week, I didst travel to the southern city of Eilat with my non-apparel true love. Upon arrival, I was told, I would find flip-flops beyond counting, more numerous than the stars, available for a reasonable sum ‘cross the entire tax-free city.

And find them I did! I scour’d the markets, the kiosks, and the blatant tourist traps, to find a pair that could match the brilliance of mine own Reefs. I found a pair purely for mine own entertainment, not for comfort, that I couldnae leave behind. But no, my search was fruitless – even in a shoppe that sold only Reefs – until the very last day in the very last shop. There, didst I find Reefs with the title Cushion. And a cushion they were, along with a bargain!

But I found it difficult to celebrate my discov’ry, as my old faithful flip-flops, holding with their truest dignity and grace, had endur’d a hole. A hole, right under my biggest of toes on my rightest of foots, which would not do for long. Nay, we visited the rocky shores of Eilat one last time that e’ening, and my trusted servants found themselves covered in tiny stones.

Thus, when I depart’d Eilat, I depart’d without my old faithful Reefs. They gave themselves in servitude to me, and for that I shall e’er be grateful. I shan’t shed a tear, though I mayhaps did sing a few bars of “I Will Always Love You” at the time of their burial.

Go in peace, Reefs. And your mem’ry shall always be with me, e’en as I try to break in my new pair with doubtful luck. Parting is such sweet sorrow.


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