Oh, the stories my shoes would tell

“Shoes Feel Funny?”

This is not the way my clients typically title their emails to me.

“There is one shoe sole on the floor of my office and it is shaped like a lady’s high heel. I think it’s yours”, Read the email.

This is the beginning of another work-related wardrobe malfunction story. (Let’s not get into the stapled skirt incident). A long-suppressed desire to travel, incubated by a massive breakup and subsequent couch surfing interlude sets the stage. Thus, my day started like any other waking up on a friend’s sofa pull-out.

Because I had a mid-day client meeting, I decided to work from “home” (using the term lightly). This was a good plan until the building fire alarms started blaring. I grabbed what I thought was a suitable outfit and laptop racing out the door in my ugliest pajamas. Buying myself time in the hopes that the alarm would soon subside, I went for coffee. Given that I was in San Francisco, I made the call that ratty pajamas would not elicit notice.  After all, was it not just last week that a guy got on the 21 bus was wearing a business suit and a full-fledged Stormtrooper mask? I could practically taste the disappointment emanating from his plastic mask when it became apparent that nobody on the bus seemed to be paying any attention to him. It was a good thing to be in San Francisco at that moment. I then proceeded to redecorate my pajamas with a giant coffee spill (let’s just call it “modern art” and move on). Post-coffee fiasco, it became apparent that the alarm was still going, so I ordered a Sidecar and headed to the gym to shower.

Unfortunately, as I stood there dripping in the locker room, I realized that I had in fact not packed a shirt or dress shoes…Fortunately, I did have a one piece swim suit in my locker! And yes, folks, I put that sucker on like it was a camisole under my blazer. Who is going to know? Next, I raced to the nearest consignment store and managed to stammer, “Business meeting, shoes, help”, pointing to my stinky gym shoes. 5 minutes, and only $10 later, I strutted out of there in a remarkably well fitted, but used pair of Ann Taylor pumps. I made it to the meeting fully clothed and on time. I almost got away with my aquatic wardrobe MacGyvering, except for…well, you already know the end of that story.

Fast-forward a few weeks and I am now fulfilling my dream of traveling around the world. Today is day 1 and my couch surfing “think on my feet” (lame pun intended) skills are already coming in handy:

I decided to bring my mountain bike here to New Zealand (pronounced “Nw Zlnd”…perhaps vowels haven’t made it to the southern hemisphere yet). But this is no ultra-light XC bike. This is a 30-35lb beefy enduro beauty which is a beast to carry in an awkward shipping box. Clearly, I need help as I attempt to board the airport bus into Auckland City with the bike plus my 70 Liter backpacker. A friendly British couple help me get the bike on-and-off-board. It becomes apparent standing there at the bus stop that a cab is not going to be flagged down given the very early morning hour. I can not carry the bike to the youth hostel in the box. So I pick the next best option. I build the bike on the spot, right there on the Auckland city street at the crack of dawn! An apartment alcove provides me with all the shelter and flat surfaces a girl could need to build a bike. I am pleased to discover that Aucklanders take about as much note of my weird bike building as SF’ers did of my coffee-stained PJs. I am even lucky enough to find a guy from the apartment building to recycle the giant box for me!

(Note the "no bikes" sign)

Not 5 hours later, I run into the same British couple while cresting the summit of Mount Victoria of Devonport overlooking the watery vista of the city. They are curious about how I got to my destination with such a large parcel. Upon hearing the story, they respond with a resounding, “You did what!?” I think I am going to get a lot of that on this trip.