As I began my still drunk journey back home to pick up the pieces of my obviously shattered life, I caught a glimpse of silver in the early morning light. Barefoot, I trudged gingerly to the spot where I had seen the curious glimmer only to find my keys near the sidewalk.
A few minutes later, still pondering the good fortune of finding my keys I happened upon my wallet followed shortly after by my phone in a glorious trail leading me home to lick my wounded pride.
The smell of cheap scotch was still quite strong when I found the first shoe, which also posed a quandary. Do I put this one shoe on and risk being seen, allowing some relief to a foot that has already suffered enough, or do I risk the equally ridiculous proposition of being seen walking barefoot while carrying exactly one shoe? I'm not ashamed to say it, I put the shoe on, careful to avoid allowing my altered stride to take me in an endless circle in a quiet Manhattan neighborhood.
Two blocks later, my concentration still on my stride, my hopes were dashed by a wayward piece of trash. Undeterred, I continued on scouring the early-morning landscape for any hint of my lost sole. The sun was beginning to bear down, the vapor from the fleeting dew drew a bead to my brow. Another inconvenience that would be remedied by my bed shortly.
Now just a block away, I turned north only to find my missing sneak placed neatly on the curb -- pointing me on home. I hurriedly put old lefty on the proper appendage and began what felt like a sprint to my door. Fumbling slightly with the lock, I gave a great heave with my shoulder and crashed through the threshold, landing with a loud thud. I struggled to my bed, feeling the air conditioner blast as I slipped into a 15 hour coma.
And thus the epitome of why 06wildcat, who graduated high school in 2000, took a full 6.5 years to get what should have been a 3.5-4 year degree with a straight C average.
