I hereby enact the Anti-Flip-Flop Act of 2011.
I’ve been in Texas for about ten years, now, and I have to say that I’m kinda getting used to the place. I’ve learned to either embrace, tolerate, or ignore the many quirks–and there ARE many–that characterize this large, strange, ridiculously warm land. One quirk that I cannot rectify in any of the aforementioned ways, though, is this: Texans think flip-flops are shoes.
I’m not kidding. Texans will wear flip-flops to dinner, to the mall, while they drive, while in class, and even to work, unless somebody tells them not to. (And if somebody DOES tell them not to, they’ll pitch a fit. Trust me. I’ve seen this first-hand.) I don’t understand this obsession, this righteous indignance that flip-flops are appropriate footwear anyplace besides one’s own home or the beach.
Let’s examine this seriously, shall we?
First of all, flip-flops are generally made of a piece of half-inch thick sheet foam which has been punctured in three places so that a plastic strap can be attached. They offer absolutely no support for one’s arches or ankles, and they encourage flat-footedness, which can lead to knee and back problems. They provide little or no cushion between one’s foot and the ground, making every step a jarring impact for the entire skeleton. Face it, people, they’re just not healthy.
One of the primary functions of shoes is to protect one’s feet from all manner of external harm. Let’s say, for example, that you nudge a book off the corner of your desk as you walk by. Not just any book, either–a big book. Let’s imagine the completse works of Shakespeare. There’s at least a fair chance that Shakespeare will land on your foot after you bump it off the desk. If you’re wearing shoes, it’s most likely that the book will bounce off your foot, give you quite a surprise, and leave you–at worst–with bruises on your toe and your pride. If you’re wearing flip-flops, though, the possibility of a broken toe or broken bones in your instep is very real in this scenario. Shakespeare and I agree: Methinks thy flimsy flip-flops place thy feet/in danger’s way, O stubborn southern folk.
Similarly, imagine that you’re going about your daily chores on a pleasant, but slightly chilly, spring or autumn day. It’s 55 degrees outside, and you’re wearing your flip-flops as you dash in and out of Sam’s Club, Target, Hastings, or wherever else you need to go. Suddenly, it begins to rain. 55 degrees with warm, dry feet is very different from 55 degrees with cold, wet feet, and you’re likely to find yourself at least very uncomfortable, and possibly very sick. I don’t even need to mention snow, do I? On the reverse end of the spectrum, let’s imagine that you accidentally catch the handle of a boiling pot of soup on the sleeve of your shirt and it all comes pouring down your front. If you’re in shoes, you’ve got a messy kitchen. If you’re in flip-flops, you’ve got severely scalded feet.
Sometimes, people need to run. Have you ever watched someone run in flip-flops? It’s ridiculous. If it doesn’t cause him or her to fall down, it will at least give the impression that he or she runs like an eighteen-month-old child and is likely to execute a slow motion faceplant at any moment. There is no way to run at top speed in flip-flops. Now imagine that you’re out in the front yard, mowing the grass, when your toddler’s toy truck rolls out into the street. The little tyke didn’t bother to look up and notice that a very real truck is coming down the street, too, and you need to run like a sonofabitch to keep him from getting pancaked. If your flip-flops slow you down by so much as a moment while you run–or even the moment it takes you to kick them off so you CAN run–that moment could prove unbelievably costly. I’m not making light of this scenario; there are many times when the ability to run might make an important difference: catching a plane, getting to class on time, avoiding a person or animal who’s attacking you…the list goes on.
Consider driving. The very nature of flip-flops makes them a genuine hazard while driving. Say you need to stomp on the brakes, and do so, only to have your foot slip right out of your “shoe” as you try, in a panic, to apply enormous downward pressure. Suddenly, you’re not applying the brakes any more. Or maybe you’re driving and one of your flip-flops comes off. As you fish around on the floorboard trying to find it, you’re not watching the road very carefully, are you? Even if you decide to ignore the flip-flop that has slipped off your foot, it could end up under the pedals, making you unable to brake or accelerate to avoid obstacles in the road. Any one of these scenarios could lead you to injure or kill yourself, your family, or a car full of strangers.
There are parasites and diseases that enter your body through the bottoms of your feet. Ask anyone who’s ever had plantar warts or ringworm. No matter how careful you are in your flip-flops, you occasionally lose one. You backtrack, hoping nobody saw you walk out of your “shoe,” and put it back on, never giving the event a second thought…and in most cases, a second thought isn’t needed. I bet it would only take one wart or case of ringworm, though, to make you wish you’d been wearing shoes.
Finally, flip-flops just aren’t shoes. The only difference between wearing flip-flops and giving the appearance of being barefoot is a little strap that goes across the top of your foot, yet people will wear flip-flops in places where they’d never DREAM of going barefoot. I just don’t see the difference. Flip-flops are to barefootedness as bikini tops are to barechestedness. Sure, you’re doing the bare minimum, but you’re hardly dressed for dinner.
Oh, one more thing. (I guess my “finally” above was a bit premature. Bear with me.) Some of you have gross/weird/ugly feet. Gentlemen, you especially have funky feet. You’ve got at least one thick, greenish toenail that has no business in public, and the hair that sprouts on your poorly-shod digits isn’t something you should show off, either. Ladies, you’re not exempt. I know you go pay tiny Asian women to make your feet “beautiful,” but some of you have that huge swollen joint at the base of your big toe, a bizarre enormous appendage where your second toe should be which exceeds the length of your big toe, heels that are cracked like the surface of some sun-baked desert, and various other podiatric anomalies. I intend no personal offense to anyone, male or female, who has any of the above-listed foot funk situations, but I am saying that it’s time to cover it up. I don’t wear muscle shirts. Wanna know why? Because I know perfectly well that I’ve got a small but noticeable example of the anatomical defect known as “man boobs,” and I don’t want the sides of ‘em sticking out for all the world to see. Those of you with weird feet, return the favor, okay?
Let’s not forget that damned sound they make!!!