The Bare Feet Incident
This past Saturday, my friends and I went out in the Meatpacking district to show an out-of-town friend around. After a large and tasty dinner of Korean BBQ, I figured it would be tough to get buzzed and made quick work of a few gin & tonics. It seems that I completely overestimated the amount of food that was in my stomach.
Things didn’t get quite so weird until we left the bar and headed over to Gray’s Papaya to get some late-night hot dogs. At this point, I wasn’t even hungry, but really, really wanted to go to bed. As we were crossing 9th Avenue, I noticed a guy giving a girl a piggyback ride walking the opposite direction. I also noticed that the girl wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Even though they were quite a distance from me, in my drunken stupor I started screaming, “Ah! Don’t touch me with your bare feet!” This, of course, attracted their attention and planted the idea into their heads. Why did I scream this? I have no idea. I’m not even scared of feet. Maybe I’m just scared of strangers’ feet when I’m drunk, but this is news to me.
So there I am, freaking out about the bare feet and the guy starts running towards me. I keep screaming, they are laughing, next thing I know, he touches me with her bare feet! Now, I’m also laughing while screaming, “Ewww! She touched me with her bare feet! Ewww!”
After this, I found a little stoop outside Gray’s Papaya and promptly fell asleep.
The whole incident remained forgotten until the next day when Gerald asked me if I remembered when they touched me with her bare feet. And it all came flooding back! At work on Monday, all I could see was that grinning couple running at me and hitting me with her bare feet and running away. I burst out loud laughing a few times just remembering the incident, but since all my coworkers who sit near me have been laid off, I was left to laugh at myself in peace and quiet.
This must be the strangest thing that has happened to me since I’ve moved to New York. And even though it’s ridiculously funny, I hope it never happens to me again.
Things didn’t get quite so weird until we left the bar and headed over to Gray’s Papaya to get some late-night hot dogs. At this point, I wasn’t even hungry, but really, really wanted to go to bed. As we were crossing 9th Avenue, I noticed a guy giving a girl a piggyback ride walking the opposite direction. I also noticed that the girl wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Even though they were quite a distance from me, in my drunken stupor I started screaming, “Ah! Don’t touch me with your bare feet!” This, of course, attracted their attention and planted the idea into their heads. Why did I scream this? I have no idea. I’m not even scared of feet. Maybe I’m just scared of strangers’ feet when I’m drunk, but this is news to me.
So there I am, freaking out about the bare feet and the guy starts running towards me. I keep screaming, they are laughing, next thing I know, he touches me with her bare feet! Now, I’m also laughing while screaming, “Ewww! She touched me with her bare feet! Ewww!”
After this, I found a little stoop outside Gray’s Papaya and promptly fell asleep.
The whole incident remained forgotten until the next day when Gerald asked me if I remembered when they touched me with her bare feet. And it all came flooding back! At work on Monday, all I could see was that grinning couple running at me and hitting me with her bare feet and running away. I burst out loud laughing a few times just remembering the incident, but since all my coworkers who sit near me have been laid off, I was left to laugh at myself in peace and quiet.
This must be the strangest thing that has happened to me since I’ve moved to New York. And even though it’s ridiculously funny, I hope it never happens to me again.
posted by danielle at 2:18 PM
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