The Real, The Plastic: Needing a Swift Kick to the Feet.

I have a pair of boots. I love wearing them. I am aware that the more I wear them, the more I’m wrecking my feet. Sometimes I just wish my feet came in plastic molds like Barbie just so that I would have an excuse for the orthopedic surgeon when I have to explain why my feet are so screwed up someday.

I had to go to court yesterday and I was brilliant and decided to take public transit in the described boots. For some reason, when I put these boots on weird things happen. Or standard Kelsey thought process happens and I end up having to walk all over town in 6 inch heels. So smart and yet so not.

So there I was, getting off the skytrain at the Granville station passing and weaving in and out of foot passenger waves of traffic. Whenever I get downtown, my living out east in downtown Ottawa and having-to-play-dodging-games-to-stay-warm-in-40-below kicks in. I turn into someone that belongs in New York. I am irritable, crabby and downright rude to others. And yesterday was just proof of it. Not proud of it, it’s just an observation I made about myself and realized it’s something that is a work in progress.

So I came flying out of the underground and charged up the sidewalk. Two men were hogging the sidewalk, walking about as relaxed as you could be. One of the gentleman took notice of the click click click of my heels right behind him and gestured to his friend to get out of the way. I don’t even think I muttered thank you as I breezed on past.

The man that got out of my way, had that charmed nature about him. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. The guy that walks as if he’s discovered the secret as to how to treat woman and masters the art of not looking overly arrogant about having figured out this secret. The dashing looks and the polite nature made me pause. It was as if he belonged in the movies. He had an Australian accent and reminded me a lot of the lead male role in The Devil Wears Prada. But he was too short to possibly be him.

So I sailed on past without giving it much more thought and literally passed everyone else to reach the corner of Georgia and Hornby. The light was red and I had to join everyone at the corner. I was freaking out. I had to be at the court in 10 minutes and I wanted to grab lunch. Being caught at the light with every other business person on their lunch break made me realize it just wasn’t going to happen.

Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the two gentleman that I had passed saunter up at their snail pace to stand right behind the crowd gathered at the corner of the busy downtown Vancouver spot. They had to cross there as well. The Charmer took one look at me and threw his head back in a deep laugh.

Somehow that relaxed my nerves slightly. I went on my way, got to the hearing and went home still plagued by the memory of that man. It was rather amusing that I had made all that effort to get somewhere faster and it just didn’t happen. You had to give him that.

I was talking to my roommate upon getting home and realized that perhaps it could have been that actor. We looked him up. Such a stalkerish thing to do. Sure enough, he is 5’10. Sure enough he is Australian and I found out his name is Simon Baker.

Whether or not it truly was Simon Baker, it’s too humorous that he stars in The Devil Wears Prada. I am a Personal Assistant in everyday life and after having read the book, I always did feel like I could totally relate to Anne Hathaway’s character as an EA. It was an uncanny moment to run into Simon Baker. It just goes to show you what the movies can do to ordinary looking people. I always thought that he would be taller. Makes him more likeable for being a normal height.

Not that I care all that much other than the fact that I totally acted like Meryl Streep rather than Anne Hathaway. That’s more embarrassing than anything. I know, I’ll blame it on the boots. There is a song that talks about boots that are made for walking. And that’s just what I did.