This is a story of Halloween proportions and involves a boot. Why this story? It is for the @LadiesofHive writing challenge which goes
something exactly like this👇
1️⃣ It's a little early for Halloween, so let's hear those High Heeled horrors, Bootie bungles, Flat fluster, Flip Flop flops, Wedge wipeouts, Croc awks, tales of your worst footwear.
I know some of you may be dreading this question:
Describe the worst pair of shoes you've ever owned.
🎼 ...pipe organ crescendo... 🎼
Please read in light-hearted tone for I am delivering it so. After all, it is almost 30 years old and lesson learnt. Now here goes...
In my 20s, I used to go out at night quite a bit. My then-boyfriend was also a bit of a party animal. We would go out almost every single night, so much so we were like part of the furniture.
I loved dressing up and though I live in a country that has no business for boots, I had these custom made boots to fit my skinny calves. I wore those boots almost every night. It fit my party clothes quite well.
Problem is, when I drive, I take off my shoes. The boyfriend had an automatic car, and thank goodness for it, for it meant I only need to take off one side.
So, one night, we had a bit too much to drink, he more than me and so I offered to drive. I took off my right boot and off we headed for my home first so he could drop me off. Halfway to my place, he insisted on driving and though I tried to convince him to wait till he dropped me off, we switched.
I did not have a chance to put my boot back on, when he drove around a bend with a traffic light about 100 metres ahead of us that had just turned green. At the traffic lights was one car that had just engaged into first gear and we were coming at him at 120 kmph.
Before we knew it, our car was almost upon this car, the boyfriend swerved to avoid him, and then everything was a blur. The car had barely made it between two trees, turtled and landed upside down in the drain.
Passers-by stopped and ran over to help. They got us out of the car, checked to see if we were okay for there was blood everywhere. The boyfriend wasn't hurt, but I had a small deep gash on my forehead which is where all the blood came from. I should have gone to get a couple of stitches, but I didn't, just so you know even though the windscreen and car ceiling were bloody, it was not as bad as it looked.
Just to show you the scar after 3 decades.
Once I was pulled out of the car, as the kind strangers were checking to see if I was okay, the only thing I could think of was my one boot still in the car. Not the boyfriend, not me, not the car but that boot.
"My boot, my boot is in the car. I need to get my boot," I kept repeating trying to get back into the car, with blood trickling down my face. One of them managed to get it for me to calm me down. And I immediately put it back on.
The car was a write-off but the boot was saved.
But really though, the moral of the story, no driving under the influence, always wear seatbelts (yeah, we were both not after swapping seats) and drive with shoes on.
By the way, since then, I have had anxiety every time I am in a car and am not the driver. I vogue and press the air-brakes sometimes to the point of irritation for the driver. But when I share this story, I think how ridiculous I must have sounded trying to save a boot after a horrific accident.
If you would like to take part in this writing challenge, do head on over HERE.
Thank you for reading and not judging ;p