Fealty

Are you ready for the heartwarming story of the week? I am in a beautiful relationship that has lasted nearly 5 years and is still going strong. Clearly, Providence has a personal interest in this relationship. Our very coming together must have been an act of manifest destiny.

I am of course talking about my faithful Ocean Pacific leather (upper only) flip flops which I purchased in the summer of 2004, at the Foot Locker off Broadway, a little below Union Square in NYC. I almost did not buy me OPs because I was told at the cashier that they did not qualify for a discount. Gritting my teeth, I took the plunge.

They carried me everywhere on the grimy streets of beloved Manhattan. We got drunk together in the Amazon, where I made new friends, all of whom also came with starting trouble: "I hate people!", or "What a classy guy you are... tsk, tsk" (well I did spill some beer). Me OPs had to be taped up special for the hang gliding off Rio. Walking the streets of BA, close to the tango action, and the rabbit at Christoph's in Palermo Viejo. They were mute witness to the glorious sunsets on the Gobi. Spurred me along (ha! pun) in that foolhardy (in retrospect) solo trek in Bumthang and elsewhere. Shielded my feet camping out in Jaisalmer, where I was caught out by the would-be palm reader for being too afraid to know what might come ahead. Saigon, KL, Siem Reap, Phuket and Changsha - work, family or just getting away solo.

Living with me through Barcelona, and sopping it up in La Rioja. At the French, US and Aussie opens - the only tan lines a man is allowed to sport are those on his feet from his flipflops. Counting sheep in NZ. Sweating it out in the black-and-yellows in Mumbai. Sharing glorious summer days (yes! they exist) and Pret-a-Manger sandwiches at Hyde Park. With my gypsies in Belgrade and hotties in Dubrovnik. 

So many good memories. Yet, today, saggy and used up I still love my flip flops. It's either them or my soul patch that recently has been attracting rather weird stares. I usually stare back, but apparently, as the US has gun-related deaths, Singapore has stare-related deaths, so I have had to avert glances. These incidents are getting really bizarre, or my face resembles somebody's on a "Wanted" list. 

But you know what is the ultimate insult to my beloved OPs? Fucking chewing gum, getting stuck on 'em.