A New Pair Of Shoes

By Todd Maguire on March 9, 2012 in Other

It was mid morning on New Year’s Eve and Roy had been invited on a harbour cruise. The owner of the opulent vessel had always talked it up but had never thrown Roy an invitation. This year, by some twist of fate, Roy had finally been given a start.

Roy donned the new pair of shoes he had saved for such an occasion. His flamboyant flight attendant friend Sam had picked up the swanky footwear overseas. Apparently they were made of the best leather by the best designer and they really looked a treat.

The luxury vessel arrived to pick up Roy from Rose Bay wharf at 11am on the dot, an early start for the evening festivities. Roy cracked a beer, admired his new shoes and settled in for the revelry. The other punters on the boat seemed a fairly happy lot but didn’t appear too warm towards him.

Roy was not deterred as he settled in, gorging himself on fresh prawns and associated delicacies. He managed to engage in some trivial small-talk but his heart wasn’t in it with these fancy-pants posers. All they talked about was their money, their spoilt kids and their favourite Eastern Suburbs coffee shops.

As the day rolled on, the captain tucked into a small cove on the northern side of the harbour. A nearby boat had the right idea with a few fishing lines out the back of the boat. They had chanced upon a school of bream and were reeling them into their boat with regularity, throwing them straight onto the sizzling hot plate.

Roy was inspired. He had seen a couple of hand lines in a store room when he was having a bit of a sticky beak earlier. He grabbed a couple of bread rolls for bait and set up peacefully at the back of the boat, ready to wet a line.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” the captain screamed from the wheelhouse. “There’s no fishing on this boat you peanut! The last thing I need is smelly bait and fish guts all over those white lounges.”

Roy could not believe his misfortune. He gave up the angling and tried to mingle with the other guests again. Unfortunately boredom was getting the upper hand. He glanced down at his new shoes and apologised to them for being put through this waste of time on their first outing.

As the boat continued to tour around the harbour, Roy was at the end of his tether. No amount of good beer or fine food could keep his spirits buoyed.

“Hey captain, I’m not feeling the best,” he lied. “Do you think you could drop me off back somewhere near Rose Bay? I don’t think I’ve brought my sea legs with me tonight.”

The captain had minimal sympathy for Roy. The best he could do was drop him off at Woolloomooloo. What had started out as a pretty dud New Year’s Eve slowly got worse. As Roy disembarked at the wharf, his new shoes got soaked and he was sent sloshing along the streets in search of a taxi home.

With no vacant taxis in sight Roy walked through the streets of Darlinghurst, dodging sky-high junkies and drunken bikers. He was also propositioned by two very unattractive, well-muscled transvestites with distinct five o’clock shadows. All the while he could feel blisters burning beneath the shrinking leather of his brand new shoes.

Finally, by foot, Roy made it to the safety of his front door. He glanced at his watch, which read two o’clock in the morning. Not only had he missed celebrating the arrival of the New Year, he was sober and he had blisters ready to burst.

Roy kicked off his shoes and counted his losses over a refreshingly cold iced water on his deck. The romance and lure of luxury boating on Sydney Harbour was not as good as it seemed.

His fancy new shoes seemed to have shrunken one whole size. He threw them as far as he could physically manage, something he should have also done to the boat’s captain. Roy finally laughed as he compared the harbour cruise to his wayward new shoes – both very, very hard to wear.