Shoeless in Los Angeles

Yesterday after a great day with my boyfriend, Anthony, and my friends, Nicole and Ray, in Manhattan Beach (note- there was day drinking involved, which we all know leads to trouble) we headed back downtown for an intense game of Uno and dinner at Yard House. On our walk to the restaurant, along the streets of downtown L.A., where the homeless make their homes and the hooligans come to play, my flip flop broke. After suffering an intense flash of panic and a few yards of scuffling along the sidewalk trying to pull off the “my flip flop is broken but I’m trying to act like nothing is wrong while I ‘glide’ gracefully on the street so my boyfriend won’t notice” look, I decided to let it go…Goodbye my left Dollar Store flip flop, you’ve been so good to me! And thank you my right Dollar Store flip flop for sticking with me until the end. So there I was, a few feet back from the pack, one shoe on, one shoe gone- my brain churning, trying to see if I could pull this off without anyone noticing and hobble into the guaranteed “no shirt, no shoes, no service” restaurant without the host noticing, when my boyfriend turns around, looks at my bare foot disgusted (he has a touch of OCD which I’m sure killed him even more), then looks at me with horror on his face that I am indeed walking downtown, barefoot and yells, “Erin, where is your other flip flop?” I couldn’t lie and I couldn’t deny, so I simply lifted up my bare foot and posed for a picture, which Ray was quick to flash. Then I remembered that I had a pair of flats in my purse- thank God! Although, I wish I would have thought of that earlier and my plan to escape barefoot embarrassment would have gone off without a hitch…Damn you, Dollar Store flip flops!