William Hurt's character Nick, has just tried on a new pair of running shoes and passionately states something along the lines of, "These are the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. I'm never taking these off. I want to be buried in these shoes."
I recently experienced just such a moment when I opened up a Christmas present from my in-laws, found these at the bottom of the box and slipped them on.
--Insert angelic clouds-parting sound from the opening of The Simpsons here--
Now, I've seen my small townsfolk of every size, shape, age and gender sporting these brightly colored rubbery excuses for footwear since moving here 4 years back.
Heck, my daughters even have a pair...or four.
But for whatever reason I never put finding a pair of Crocs that I could honestly feel "comfortable" wearing in public, high on my priority list. By comfortable, I mean, emotionally. Let's face it, neon footwear was no where near the job description I wrote for my feet so many years, and so many pairs of shoes ago.
In fact, my life in bare-footed footwear thus far has consisted of loyalty and devotion to what I've always called slippers. Depending on your age, race, and background, you may know them as one of the following:
Jap slaps (sorry, gotta be part J to use this one)
oriental hiking boots
-- sharing space with such items as every promotional tee-shirt my old employer handed out celebrating inane corporate milestones, that Jackson 5 Victory Tour concert shirt featuring brother Michael front and center from 1984, and every hat ever given to me since my 5th birthday (I don't wear hats...don't ask, it's a big hair thing).
A quick scan of the official Crocs site reveals that they are offering a fur-lined (fake fur, easy there PETA), version of their bestseller.
Footwear with a "fuzzy removable footbed?"
I do so want to be buried in these things.