Babymoon: Episode II: Attack of the Fred

When we last left our intrepid heroes, they had thwarted the evil machinations of Man Hands Vee.

We had some time to kill before we could check into the hotel, so we decided to head to the mall and pick up some new shoes for me. Of course, it started raining right as we pulled into the parking lot. So, after letting Carly out at the door and parking somewhere near Canada (all I could see was hockey rinks and bears. And I swear I heard the Canadian mating call: "Molson Ice is on sale, eh!"), I headed into the mall myself. We came to the conclusion that the first place we found that sold shoes we would check out.

And it was there that we met Fred.

Fred is an older gentlemen. He sells shoes in the men's section at the J.C.Penny's in the mall. He is dressed in the starndard men's wear outfit at J.C.Penny's: white shirt, black pants, red tie, and of course, comfy, well chosen shoes. Fred is very no-nonsense about his shoes. Fred is scary no-nonsense about his shoes. Don't mess with Fred.

We approached the men's shoe section, and looked at the display shoes for anything in our price range that looked decent. As Carly reached for a nice black model, Fred comes to us and says, "May I help you?" much like a museum curator would to a patron who had his filthy hands streched out to touch the Mona Lisa. "Yes," Carly says, "he needs a black dress shoe. Nothing too dressy. More casual than dressy but still nice looking." I say, "yeah, something like a Biz-Cas-Fri shoe." Fred moves to show me the shoe, ignoring my comment.

Fred is serious about his shoes.

He points to one particular display shoe and says, "This is the best deal in the store. A very nice pair of shoes." At this point, I'm thinking it's best not to question Fred, much like thinking it's best not to poke a sleeping bear with a stick. "Do you have that in a 12?", we ask. Fred tells me that he needs to measure my foot and, doing the next logical thing, walks off to where he measures feet. I sit down, and being in quite the vulnerable position, ask if it's the left or right foot that he needs. He barks, "right", much like a Nazi SS officer would bark at a soldier to march. I'm very glad that I wore clean socks that day. He puts my foot into the little clamp-like torture device that they measure feet with. He then informs me that I've been wrong for years and that I wear a size 12 in sneaker, but in dress shoes, I wear a 10 1/2.

Fred is VERY serious about his shoes!

We pick out a pair of sneakers for me, then it's time to check out. Fred has been holding my dress shoes for me so we could find the sneakers we like, much like a mother holds a newborn baby. As we go to check out, there is a bottleneck at the register. Fred begins to direct traffic as he checks people out, helping us skip a few people in line. No one protests. No one bats an eye. Fred's word is law.

Do not mess with Fred.

As we walk away, I can't help but wish Fred well. He is a stalwart bastion of podiatary excellence. And, daily, he steps on the heels of greatness, arching his way ever upward to the foot of the heavens. Once more into the breach, dear Fred. Once more.

We continued our adventure into foot fetishism by getting Carly a spa pedicure. Seeing as how I have big giant size 10 1/2 (12 in sneakers) hobbit feet, I declined. They guy in the chair nearest me, on the other hand, seemed to get quite the workout on his feet. At one point, she started to slap his feet. I think the lady was massaging his feet, but it sounded like there was a bug on them and she was trying to kill it.

On the TV was an old show, American Gladiators 2000. It was a kids version of the fabled American Gladiators, with dumbed down events (including questions during the Eliminator. Seriously.) I don't remember that being on when I was younger. The date on it was 1995. 14 years ago. Damn, I'm old. But not as old as the kid that took forever on the Eliminator costing his team the victory. And I saw the entire, humiliating defeat, 14 years later. That kid might be a lawyer or doctor or rocket scientist now. He could be on the verge of curing cancer, or getting ready to take the first steps on Mars. But all I'll ever know of him is that he totally blew it on national televison.

As this is a 3 part story there will be a brief intermission:

Things overheard in Kansas City....

Girl 1: "I like anchovies, and I like pizza. So, why do I hate anchovy pizza?"
Girl 2: "Maybe there's something wrong with you."

Girl walking past us: "And, I swear, I looked down and said, "Holy cow! That's infected!"


Stay tuned for Part 3: The End?