Miracles of the Mojave

Have you ever played volleyball barefoot? Depending on the court, it can be a very pleasant experience. When Phoebe and I were in Cancun we participated in a few rounds of Jungle Volleyball on the white sands of Mexico (the Carribean waves lapping at our ankles). That’s what I call Ultimate Volleyball. Here in Vegas, the sand is not quite as refined as it was on that beach in Mexico. Though it is true desert sand, its texture is that of cat box litter. How did I become so familiar with the kitty litter texture of the Mohave sand, you ask? Here’s how it happened…

Last Friday Carrie and I were on our way to Picnic in the Park for a little volleyball action. Running on Shira Time (late as usual), we rushed to pack up the car and hit the road in a frenzy of excitement (the excitement mostly due to the fact that we were going to check out a new tapas restaurant, Firefly, later that night). When we got to the park I realized that I had neglected to remove my sneakers from the hood of the car and place them safely inside. After an extensive search of the hood I succumbed to the realization that the desert night had swallowed them up, to be worn nevermore. *dramatic sigh* And so I played barefoot that night, rather than ruin a second pair of shoes (my favorite red slip-ons) in the Mojave.

Two days later I was driving down Windmill Rd., about a mile from my house, when I spotted something suspicious. Could it be…? A pair of sneakers lying half in/ half out of the median!! After a quick drive by I pulled a U-y, parked illegally on the sidewalk, dashed across four lanes of swiftly moving traffic and (ba da duuuummm) RESCUED my SNEAKERS!!!! It was a miracle! It was a miracle in the Mojave Desert. I couldn’t believe it. Happy Tears streaming down my face, I clasped my beloved sneaks to my bosom and promised that I would never leave them on the roof again. Then, raising them high above my head, I did the Rocky Triumphs The Big Stairs Champion Dance all the way back to the illegally-parked car. It was a joyous day.

Luckily for me, the shoes were unscathed besides a little minor graffiti (shown above) and some mis-shapenness from an apparent encounter with an eighteen wheeler. I even found one of the socks I had shoved inside still there! We can only imagine what an eventful few nights on the streets of Las Vegas it must have been for those shoes. If only they could talk…