A few years back me and a few of my buddies decided to take a road trip up to Newport, Rhode Island for a little mountain biking, beachcombing and relaxation. The second night we were there, we wound up heading out to this night spot for a few drinks. Bear in mind that this is high summer in a resort community, so, needless to say, there were many other twentysomething men and women out for the same brand of enjoyment we were.
As was often the case with my group and I back then (before we all decided to grow up and get married!), the evenings ended with one or more of us meeting a young lady and slipping away to spend the rest of the evening in relative privacy. On this particular night, I happen to have been fortunate enough to strike up a conversation with one such young lady and we spent the better part of the evening at the bar. Things close up a bit early up there (or at least I thought so at the time...I seem to remember last call at around 1:15 AM or so), so my new found friend and I agreed to continue our conversation elsewhere.
Luckily, the place at which she was staying was not too far from our hotel, so we set up a meeting spot down near the marina and parted ways for about fifteen minutes. I was still dressed in my khakis and plaid shirt from dinner (typical New England J. Crew stuff, you know). I decided that I wanted to appear less buttoned-up for our rendezvous, so I put on an old pair of jeans and polo shirt. Since we agreed that we would simply take a stroll down in the marina and sit somewhere to chat, I decided to go barefoot...a big mistake, as it turned out, which I'll get to in a moment. It was summer after all...a season when I wear shoes only when I absolutely have to. Plus, my bare feet I thought added to my self-assuredness and easygoing appearance.
We met down at the marina...right off she asked, "where are your shoes?" to which I replied the whole "I like going barefoot in the summer" thing, which she seemed to understand. Anyway, we began our little stroll down the narrow boardwalk that allows access to the boats in the marina. I learned the hard way that evening that the boardwalk is made up of sections between which there are spaces...spaces just large enough to slip through if one isn't paying attention. I, for one, was not paying enough attention to where I stepped, as I was pretty focused on my lovely companion and not on the smooth boards beneath my unshod feet.
We rounded a corner and I began to walk backwards a bit so I could face her when my foot slipped between a space in the boardwalk. It didn't go down but a few inches, but all my weight was on that leg when I stepped, so my foot got wedged in pretty tight. I stopped walking, of course, and tried flexing my ankle in an effort to free my foot...to no avail. I was trying to keep a straight face for a few moments while I attempted to extricate myself...she hadn't noticed I was stuck since my my foot had barely disappeared between the boards. Finally, after a few seconds (which seemed a lot longer), I said, "hold up a minute...I'm stuck." "What do you mean?" she replied, still not noticing. I pointed towards the ground when she asked, "your foot's stuck?" I replied in the affirmative, and refused help. Only I needed help...my foot was really stuck, and the fact that I was barefoot didn't help. Those boardwalk planks are nice and smooth on the surface, but the sides of the boards are unsanded and rough...yanking hard was really painful. Finally she said, somewhat impatiently, "here..let me help you." She pointed out that had I been wearing shoes, I simply could have slipped out of the trapped one to free myself...this, of course, I knew, but wasn't in the mood for advice at the moment. I felt really helpless and clumsy...she even muttered, more to herself than me, how I managed to get myself into that predicament in the first place. Finally, after five minutes of tugging on my ankle and reaching beneath my now aching foot to push upward, the boardwalk floated out a bit with the wake of a passing boat and I managed to pull the foot free. (Both of us had seen the small craft pass by, but she took credit for getting my foot out). It looked red and swollen on the sides and, though we continued to walk and talk for another few minutes, she couldn't help but notice that I was distracted by the condition of my foot...I kept stopping to point and flex my toes, rotate my ankle and so-forth to see if everything was all-right.
We went our separate ways a little bit later on that evening...by buddies asked what, if anything, had happened as we sat down to breakfast the next day, and I didn't get into detail. She and I were from different states and didn't see each other again. We did correspond by telephone from time to time, though, for about another year after we met. She never asked to see me again, but she always asked if my foot ever recovered!
As was often the case with my group and I back then (before we all decided to grow up and get married!), the evenings ended with one or more of us meeting a young lady and slipping away to spend the rest of the evening in relative privacy. On this particular night, I happen to have been fortunate enough to strike up a conversation with one such young lady and we spent the better part of the evening at the bar. Things close up a bit early up there (or at least I thought so at the time...I seem to remember last call at around 1:15 AM or so), so my new found friend and I agreed to continue our conversation elsewhere.
Luckily, the place at which she was staying was not too far from our hotel, so we set up a meeting spot down near the marina and parted ways for about fifteen minutes. I was still dressed in my khakis and plaid shirt from dinner (typical New England J. Crew stuff, you know). I decided that I wanted to appear less buttoned-up for our rendezvous, so I put on an old pair of jeans and polo shirt. Since we agreed that we would simply take a stroll down in the marina and sit somewhere to chat, I decided to go barefoot...a big mistake, as it turned out, which I'll get to in a moment. It was summer after all...a season when I wear shoes only when I absolutely have to. Plus, my bare feet I thought added to my self-assuredness and easygoing appearance.
We met down at the marina...right off she asked, "where are your shoes?" to which I replied the whole "I like going barefoot in the summer" thing, which she seemed to understand. Anyway, we began our little stroll down the narrow boardwalk that allows access to the boats in the marina. I learned the hard way that evening that the boardwalk is made up of sections between which there are spaces...spaces just large enough to slip through if one isn't paying attention. I, for one, was not paying enough attention to where I stepped, as I was pretty focused on my lovely companion and not on the smooth boards beneath my unshod feet.
We rounded a corner and I began to walk backwards a bit so I could face her when my foot slipped between a space in the boardwalk. It didn't go down but a few inches, but all my weight was on that leg when I stepped, so my foot got wedged in pretty tight. I stopped walking, of course, and tried flexing my ankle in an effort to free my foot...to no avail. I was trying to keep a straight face for a few moments while I attempted to extricate myself...she hadn't noticed I was stuck since my my foot had barely disappeared between the boards. Finally, after a few seconds (which seemed a lot longer), I said, "hold up a minute...I'm stuck." "What do you mean?" she replied, still not noticing. I pointed towards the ground when she asked, "your foot's stuck?" I replied in the affirmative, and refused help. Only I needed help...my foot was really stuck, and the fact that I was barefoot didn't help. Those boardwalk planks are nice and smooth on the surface, but the sides of the boards are unsanded and rough...yanking hard was really painful. Finally she said, somewhat impatiently, "here..let me help you." She pointed out that had I been wearing shoes, I simply could have slipped out of the trapped one to free myself...this, of course, I knew, but wasn't in the mood for advice at the moment. I felt really helpless and clumsy...she even muttered, more to herself than me, how I managed to get myself into that predicament in the first place. Finally, after five minutes of tugging on my ankle and reaching beneath my now aching foot to push upward, the boardwalk floated out a bit with the wake of a passing boat and I managed to pull the foot free. (Both of us had seen the small craft pass by, but she took credit for getting my foot out). It looked red and swollen on the sides and, though we continued to walk and talk for another few minutes, she couldn't help but notice that I was distracted by the condition of my foot...I kept stopping to point and flex my toes, rotate my ankle and so-forth to see if everything was all-right.
We went our separate ways a little bit later on that evening...by buddies asked what, if anything, had happened as we sat down to breakfast the next day, and I didn't get into detail. She and I were from different states and didn't see each other again. We did correspond by telephone from time to time, though, for about another year after we met. She never asked to see me again, but she always asked if my foot ever recovered!
