If you keep up with my Facebook status (or remember my weakness for awesome heels that define ‘beauty=pain’), you’ll have an idea that I really wanted to rock some heels and a skirt at least ONE day of these sales conferences. Well, today was the day. I had absolutely no problem in my cute little kitten heels until the end of the day when I decided the wise course of action would be to take the subway the fifty or so blocks between my meeting and my hotel.

This, of course, sounds completely logical. Subway 50 blocks vs. walking 50 blocks? No brainer. My feet would thank me.

Or not.

Believe it or not, this post isn’t even really about my feet. Don’t get me wrong, they are in pain. But I’ve already written about my feet. And while they are fascinating and unique, the story wouldn’t be all that different from last time. Blah blah, walking, blah blah, standing, blah blah, blisters… you know how it goes. No, this isn’t that sort of post. It’s a bit more complicated than that.

I stepped on to the wrong E train tonight. I knew I should have stopped in the doorway and turned around when I saw puddles of water on the floor of the subway car, and in some of the plastic seats. That can never be a good sign. But there were people in there, so on I got.

The moment the train starting pulling away, it began to rain in one corner of this subway car. Very, very close to where I was standing. Keep in mind, I’ve spent all day at an art publisher’s new title presentation, where “surrealism” is a frequently used term. Needless to say, this was a very surreal moment, and I recognized the beauty of that image. Especially as this rain didn’t fall or splash on me.

And then the train started to slow down. That’s when a surreal moment turned very real. Yes, I got “rained” on. No, I don’t know for sure if it was rain. And if it was just rain, I was WELL underground (the E is like 3 flights below the street at that point) AND inside a subway car, so it was likely some seriously nasty rain. Ew.

But I was committed to this train ride, and in all honesty, it brought me out of my shell. I stayed sort of  huddled in my corner (where it hadn’t rained, but was definitely in the splash zone) as the rest of the car was filled to the brim and I warned oncoming passengers at each stop that they shouldn’t stand in certain spots unless they wanted to get wet. I was friendly, and I know they appreciated it. It surprised me that no one else warned people, even people who had been on the train when I arrived never said anything about where not to stand. That is rude.

Anyway, that wasn’t the end of my troubles. From the E, I had to transfer onto the 6 to get back to my hotel. Usually, the signage is quite good at these stations, but I had a hard, hard time finding the 6 from the E at 53rd and Lexington. I went up three flights of stairs (NOT an escalator, blurgh) in my heels, with my briefcase/bag on my shoulder and my skirt beginning to be more of a bother than an asset… {Allow me to also state that at least twice in my journey upward, the heel of my shoe caught on the lip of the stair and was yanked from my foot…. ewwww subway stairs barefooted!!} only to realize when I FINALLY reached the top, that actually, I was never supposed to have climbed all that way in the first place. So, I turned around and clomped back down, slowing everyone behind me down I’m sure. Very embarrassing.

As it was rush hour (or rush 3 hours, as it were), it took me at least an hour to get back to the hotel. At which point all I really wanted was to pick up my computer at the front desk and crash on my bed for several days… but this was delayed when the dude at the front desk couldn’t be bothered to turn around and retrieve my bag without summoning a bellhop first. This took another good ten minutes. When he finally arrived, he couldn’t find my bag. Apparently they store bags in several different locations at this hotel. I was too tired to panic, and thankfully he did find the bag (right behind the desk all along)… but it was certainly a struggle to stay on my feet those last few minutes.

The best part of today was coming up with the title for this post. When I write my memoirs, don’t be surprised if this becomes the title to that, as well. Well, maybe we can work to transform that MISadventures into something more positive between now and then! Wish me luck!


This is a lyric from Wicked, specifically from the song “Popular.” Even if you haven’t seen the musical, chances are, you’ve heard this quirky little song. In it, Galinda is transforming Elphaba into a girl popular enough to be her friend.

In attempt to glam myself up for my very own viewing of this musical, I re-learned the perfectly true saying that “beauty is pain.” Boy is it, ever. I borrowed one very hot pair of shoes* that (though they weren’t ruby slippers, sadly) really pulled together my entire ensemble. Half of which was also borrowed, considering my clothing options are rather limited when I’m traveling. The point is, I was determined to wear these shoes. No matter how much Dear Friend (who attended the show with me) insisted that I would regret it. Which I did. And do.

All was more than fantastic until I started walking in these fabulous shoes. The trouble began outside of the restaurant where we had our pre-show dinner. My heel kept slipping out of the shoe, causing me to have to walk tip-toed for a step or two for my heel to slide back in to place. Or to make like a flamingo and stand on one foot or the other and manually adjust the shoe causing the issue. This happened about fifteen times between the parking lot and our table, and a similar number on the way back to the car after dinner.

At that point, I was still quite proud of how hot these shoes were and how lucky I was to have the same sized feet as Dear Friend. Sure, the hobbling was an annoyance. But it was certainly worth the look I achieved by wearing them.

The situation became more dire when we were mid-way into a rather longer walk between the parking lot downtown and the theatre entrance; we were nearing the 15-minutes-to-showtime mark and we both had to use the facilities prior to this three hour long musical/visual extravaganza and then hike up four flights of stairs to the balcony and one extra flight to the VERY last row and around 20 already seated folks to get to our seats before show time. This is NOT easy to do in the allotted time, even in flats. But honey, I was rockin’ some serious heels that were not entirely fitting my feet to begin with. I made it to my seat with barely a moment to spare, and with what felt like bleeding, blistered, and battered feet. It was just a relief to sit down.

Until I discovered the definition of vertigo and almost lost my dinner on the nice family in the row in front of us. Seriously, we were WAY too high (in the vertical sense, not the druggie sense). WAY. But that’s not really the point of this post, now is it?

Needless to say, my toes came out to play during the performance. They deserved a break. They’d performed admirably well – I was satisfied with them as a whole, no matter how much I wished I’d shoved a pair of flip-flops in my purse on the way out the door.

Things just became humorous after the show. It was around 11pm at this point and I am usually quite relaxed and nearly asleep by this time most nights, so you might describe me as “drowsy” to begin with. Though there was no alcohol involved in this fantastic evening, if you’d seen my attempt to get back to Dear Friend’s car, you would have assumed I’d drunk heavily for several hours before making the journey. I wobbled. I clutched on to Dear Friend for Dear Life. I swung my arm in attempt to stay balanced. I curled my toes up in the shoes so that the heels would stop slipping. I sang the only line from the musical I could remember (the word Popular) over and over again. I gave myself permission to never wear shoes again if I just made it to the car without giving up and walking barefoot through the streets of Birmingham. Dear Friend weaved with me as she tried to support my leanings. She laughed at my absurd singing. She reminded me that she’d told me not to wear the shoes in the first place.

She was right.

But dang, they were such adorable shoes. I’ d probably put them back on right now if they were mine to keep. Isn’t it amazing how something as simple as a pair of shoes can transform a person’s attitude? Galinda is right. Sometimes it just takes finding the right shoes to wear to make yourself feel like the most popular person in the world!


Wicked Heels!

Wicked Heels!