I got these hickey-ma-whatsits for Christmas. They’re made of really flexible rubber and stretch over your shoes. I first saw them while flipping past one of the home shopping networks. I know it does not bode well for my reputation to admit that I have spent precious moments of my life watching QVC, but just go ahead and tell me that if you saw – just for an instant – a man doing a little softshoe routine atop a three-foot-square block of ice, it would not give you pause. Yeah. That’s what I thought.
Anyway, on the bottom are little metal spiky things, kind of like those found on golf cleats. The deal is, you put them on your shoes and when you go outside to the car in the morning, the bits claw into the 3 inches of solid ice atop your driveway so you don’t slide madly and crack your head on the garage door the way you did last year. You can also, apparently, do a remarkably accurate Gene Kelly impression whilst ice fishing. So there’s that.
I have needed these things for a long time. Ever since that time in first grade when I broke my arm by falling on the ice in the Giant Eagle parking lot (I was pretending to ice skate while wearing duck shoes), I cannot seem to keep my footing on any slick surface. The whole experience was traumatic because, in addition to having to wear a cast for 2 months, I had to endure endless taunting and teasing from my peers, teasing that was actively sanctioned by the sadistic nun who was our teacher*.
Ever since then, ice and snow have caused me injury at least once for every subsequent year. There have been countless instances of me slipping and falling, one of the most memorable being the time I lost footing on some outdoor stairs in college and fell directly on my tailbone, which necessitated a trip to the ER, a prescription for Darvoset (great idea, medical personnel! give THAT to a college student!), and one of those inflatable butt donut things. The doctor’s advice was to sit it “whenever you’re in class.” Like hell. I was not about to show up to my English classes with an apparatus that doubles as relief treatment for hemorrhoid patients.
Bottom Line: These things rock. I can do great Baryshnikov leaps across miles of black ice and land upright. I can actively TRY to fall in the driveway, to no avail. There is great comfort and confidence that comes with knowing you're not constantly on the verge of falling on your ass.
* Sister Mary Ninja, named for her unique ability to hurl ballpoint pens at our heads with deadly, frightening accuracy whenever we committed some classroom infraction. Don’t try to tell me Catholic education isn’t capable of inflicting emotional scars.
posted by Kate at 10:06 PM link/comments
