Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Shoe Choice.

There seems to be quite a few reoccurring themes in my life.  My endless wardrobe of black (I blame being in Europe for 3 months for that one), my love of writing (which has come and gone and come back again),  my unearthly cravings for Chipotle burritos, and finally my luck when it comes to choosing the right shoes to wear.  When I was in school, the best part of my day was truly getting ready.  I just love getting ready for some reason, putting together an outfit you've never worn before (this is thanks to my ever expanding wardrobe and shopping problem). And the best part of putting an outfit together?  Finding the perfect shoes to wear with them.  I honestly do have a problem when it comes to shoes.  That is a true addiction.  And I try to make my outfits both stylish and practical (I always check the weather because no one wants to be the girl wearing suede booties in the rain).  But as of recently, I have been wrong with the shoe choice. I mean like completely off.  I think I truly underestimated the amount I would be walking in D.C.  When you picture D.C. you see endless traffic, but I never thought of endless blisters.  This is probably due to my lack of familiarity of the city, and although I have lived in NOVA for my whole life, I seem to always choose the wrong metro stop to get off at and end up walking miles to my destination, of course in some sort of heel.

The other day I decided to spend some time in D.C., I always want to challenge my skills when it comes to the metro, and why not? D.C. is close enough to my house, it was a gorgeous day, and I had nothing else to do (I had plans to go to the Kings of Leon concert, which ended up being cancelled).  I didn't want sit home all day, seething about the fact some idiotic fan jumped in front of the tour bus causing a huge accident and some broken bones (seriously though, some fans are too much like calm down, crazy),  and as I flipped through The Washingtonian, a huge picture of a doughnut caught my eye.  It was a really pretty doughnut (don't judge me), and my cousin previously raved on and on about the restaurant that served them (plus fried chicken, drool), GBD, which was in Dupont Circle. I like Dupont Circle, lots of fun bars, and I had never been there during the day, so why not take a little day trip?  Plus I love fried chicken almost as much as my Chipotle burritos.  

I didn't want to waste my concert outfit, which was pretty simple: a comfortable white tank top, some gold chain necklaces, acid wash jean shorts, and my favorite grey suede booties.  I love these shoes, they're my go to when I just need a little...height (note: I love wearing heels, they create a longer line in the leg and the fact that 'tall girls can't wear heels' is just silly and a little prejudice to girls like me).  I slipped the booties on and I was set.  As I parked and payed for my fare card, I was excited to be up in the city, exploring and walking around in the summer air. 

There's something that is always so intimidating about the metro.  It's cleaner than the New York subway, and pretty safe, but for some reason when I see that map (with like a million different lines), my palms start to sweat.  I knew the general direction I needed to be going, and took a guess that I should get off at the MetroStation stop (completely overlooking the Dupont Circle stop).  Excited to be out and about, I stepped off the train, confident enough that I'd find my way to the restaurant some how.  As I blinked in the sunlight, I typed the address into my phone expecting to be two to three blocks from GBD. Nope. Wrong. I was just under two MILES away from the restaurant.  I just stood there for a second. Should I take a cab? No that would be too expensive, and this girl is on a budget.  I rocked back and forth on my feet, testing the overall pain from my shoes; they felt completely comfortable at the time, plus it was a gorgeous day.  I'm just gonna do it,  I thought.  And you know what, it wasn't all that terrible.  

I have grown to enjoy people watching in D.C. it's not like any other city. You see your yuppies, older professionals, politicos etc.  I like the city, it's not overwhelming which allows me to feel comfortable exploring.  After walking a mile (praying I was going the right direction), my feet were beginning to throb. I kept going, stopping only once to pose in front of the White House like a tourist (and take a little break).  After drinking some water and taking some typical tourist pics (only took one selfie), I pushed on.  By this time, I regretted the shoe choice. It was a bit hotter than I expected, the walk was much longer than I expected and I began to wonder if I'd ever make it to the promise land.  Finally, after weaving through a few sides streets, I made out the small sign, GBD, on a little door across the street.  It was exactly 3 pm, and the restaurant looked empty.  As I glanced through the door, like a creep, panic spread across my face, thinking ARE THEY CLOSED? I cautiously pushed it open, and it was my lucky day.  The cold air rushed toward me.  As I approached the counter I learned they were open and still serving fried chicken and Maker's Mark glazed doughnuts, and although my feet hurt; I was happy and relieved.  After eating my fair share of chicken and doughnuts (pretty delicious combination)  I sat there, proud that I accomplished another successful scavenger hunt in D.C. (though I took a mile or two detour).

I stayed at the restaurant for a few hours, experiencing the beginnings of happy hour in Dupont Circle (happy hour is the best time to people watch plus they had some awesome Sangria).  I then walked to the nearest metro stop which was about 10 steps from the GBD (I know, lesson learned, study the metro map more Corinne) and headed home.  And although I am convinced I am developing permanent blisters, I might as well get used to them.  Because I am not caving on the two things that seem to be causing them: heels and the fabulous city of Washington D.C. Until my next adventure in the city, I might give my feet a little break.  But hey, I have an interview tomorrow... and everyone knows the way to show confidence in an interview: a killer pair of heels.

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