Tuesday, July 1, 2008

A short short story . . .add to or finish if you want.

“I can make a difference for you there.” The words were slow getting to whatever part of my brain is supposed to handle that kind of thing. I was walking briskly through the airport getting from one place to another, while thinking about the next place I was supposed to be, how I was going get there (you know, taxi versus shuttle versus rental. I would like to be more worldly and know about all these things, but I never do. People in movies never ask such questions. They just walk confidently to the curb with their luggage and their lives all organized, throw up a hand with the index finger pointed upward and hail a taxi which is appearing even before it is hailed, or to the nearest subway, which I figure is about 1200 miles from here. I am assuming that those characters did not pay for their airline ticket with cash because their credit card was maxed out, and therefore, avoided the curse of the cashpaying air traveler . . . being pulled out of the security line and given the full treatment. Shoes, belt, bags, dignity, everything removed, revealed and rearranged. Who could look confident in hailing a cab after such an intrusion. I just hope the terrorists don’t catch on and start paying with a credit card.), and what I was going to do when I got there (sorry about that unacceptably long parenthetical, but sometimes, most of the time, my brain operates parenthetically. Some might call it ADD. I like to think of it as multi-core processing).

“I can make a difference for you there.” By the time I realized the words were directed toward me there was no one around.. I stopped and looked back and to my right, immediately finding the source of the offer of assistance. The shoe shine man. A force-field of confidence surrounded him as he looked first at my face, and as if clicking and dragging my gaze, he lowered his eyes to my shoes. With a quick nod of his head he released me, as I stared at my flat-finish black dress shoes.

I stopped in my tracks, without signaling, upsetting the woman who had apparently been tailgating me as we negotiated the heavy pedestrian airport traffic. She passed on by, muttering something under her breath. But I was still looking at my shoes.

What does he mean he can make a difference for me?

"Your shoes, I can make a difference for you there."

I told him I was on a tight schedule and did not have time. He did not insist. He just smiled and still looking at my shoes said, "next time."

For the rest of the day, everyone I passed was looking at my miserable shoes.

3 comments :

  1. You know they say you can tell alot about a person by their shoes. I just happened to do a little shoe watching one night recently at City Stages and it quickly came to my attention that about one out of every five people had on the same kind of flip flop. They only came in two colors, dark brown and tan, but they were certainly popular. I tried to read the tag on them to see what kind they are (I am usually pretty up on the latest outdoor shoe trends)but it didn't have a name on it, only a rainbow. Finally I asked someone and they said that they were called "Rainbows" and they were great and I could get them at any outdoor store. I don't know what it said about me that I was so fascinated by this or what it said about them that so many people had chosen to buy this $50 flip flop, but I do know that I went to Mtn. High Outfitters a few weeks later and I refused to even try them on.

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  2. I like it.

    Sometimes the things we feel that no one notices are what people notice first. The small things, the little insignificances that we brush off...they matter a lot more than we think.

    Just like when you're feeling low or depressed or self-involved one day and someone simply smiles at you. He or she probably thinks nothing of it, but it can change your whole outlook or disposition at that moment.

    We should all remember the little things more often. :)

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  3. Maybe if the guy in the airport took more pride in his footwear he would have the means to pay with a credit card. Maybe if there was money on his credit card he could purchase better shoes (rainbows that turn your feet brown). All I know for sure is that there is some kind of relationship between credit cards and shoes. I think this symbiosis merits some further consideration. When I think about it I feel sad.

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