The night I wore no shoes

Tonight, I walked home barefoot. In San Francisco. I haven’t walked home barefoot in a city since New Years Eve in NYC, 2004, when I ended up sleeping on the couch of Johnny Blaze, which is clearly a whole other story, in fact, one I think I’ve recounted before.

Anyway, the point is, I try to keep my footwear on when I’m walking the sidewalks of large metropolitan areas, and shockingly enough, I actually prefer to keep them on pretty much in any public venue. BSpears may have tried to make going barefoot in public spaces look chic, or at least, public gas station bathrooms, but I prefer to march to the beat of my own drummer.

So then, me, barefoot tonight. I arrived home from dinner around 11:30 and drove around for a full ½ hour before finally exploring a whole new corner of the parking world, Buena Vista Heights. It’s called “BV HEIGHTS” for a reason, namely that it presides at the crest of this fair city. Anyway, I practically forgot where I lived I was so high up in the atmosphere. After a lovely game of bumper kissing, which I practice now on a regular basis, I exited my car and started to head on home.

As I headed home, down hill toward Haight Street, it dawned on me that the street was so steep that I could not in fact see below the crest of the approaching hill. When I reached the top of said hill, two blocks due south of the 1-3-7, I had a feeling that I have thus far reserved for the Rockies. That is the feeling I get when I reach the top of a black diamond covered in waist-high moguls that are entirely above my competency level, but I know I need to get down the hill.

Except, in this case, I was wearing shoes, and there was no snow, and it was midnight, and dark, and not a sporting quest. So you see, pretty much no similarities saved for the panicked feeling of staring down a hill and wondering how I’d make it down.

I looked down at my heels, towering creations of wooden platform spike heels and peep-toed caramel-colored calf skin, and frowned. I started a tentative step and faltered. I started a sideways step and faltered. I reached to my right and gripped the stucco of the building and thought about walking down whilst holding on. It was then that I realized I could never feasibly make it down. It was simply too steep. So I had no choice but to remove my heels and walk barefoot.

I actually consider myself lucky, as I managed to make it all two blocks home without stepping on a contaminated hypodermic, you know, as I was walking at midnight by myself barefoot adjacent to Buena Vista Park, which as far as I can tell, is pretty much the only crack den with a panoramic view of one of the most beautiful cities on earth. Hey man. If I did the crack? I’d be all over the BV Park. As it happens, I don’t, but it’s nice to have an aspirational location to take on if I ever do decide to take up the cheapest form of cocaine as a nice little side hobby.

So then, I guess I’ve had my adrenaline rush for the evening so can go to bed happy and satisfied. Phew, those hills! Who knew.