If the Shoe Fits...

If the Shoe Fits…

“Go find the owner of this glass slipper.”

-The Prince; Cinderella

Searches tend to be unsuccessful if one is uncertain of the target. Such was the case for Wally, living an unfulfilled life but unaware of what was missing. He could only hope he’d someday stumble into true happiness.

“You really think your new bowling shoes are going to help, Wally?”

“I think so, Tom. If nothing else, it will make me feel more confident.”

“A good scout doesn’t blame his equipment. Your new bowling ball didn’t do much for you last week.”

“What are you talking about? My average went up by three.”

“Wally, going from 102 to 105 isn’t anything to brag about.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Tom. It’s called progress.”

High school teacher by day, 4th chair on his cellar dwelling bowling team every Friday night, dinner at his mom’s every Wednesday night, mass every Sunday morning (with his mom), TV most evenings- those were the highlights of Wally’s life. It wasn't a glamorous existence, but Wally was free of anxiety and content. One night at Pin Crazy upset Wally’s world.

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Bowling alleys are a noise magnet. Bowling balls landing hard on the wood alley, the explosion of pins smacking and crashing into each other, and the constant drum of voices competing to be heard. With 12 lanes, Pin Crazy was a beehive of sound and motion on a Friday night.

“Wally! You’re up!”

Wally was distracted. His body had been performing his role as the weak link of Bernie’s Bar bowling team on lane #7, but his eyes had been sneaking peeks at the vision throwing strikes on lane #9. His mind had been there 100% of the time since they arrived. She was the girl he was hoping to find without ever realizing he was looking for her.

Petite but powerful, plain but pretty, pixie blonde hair, and a persistent smile replaced only by an occasional laugh. Wally was smitten.

Sip of beer. A quick glance at lane #9. Throw the ball down the alley. A quick glance at alley #9. Sip of beer, a quick glance, and on and on. She got cuter with every turn in her direction. Wally laughed at the sight of her bright red bowling shoes with yellow flames blazing on the side. “She’s got moxie”, he thought.

“Wally! You’re up!”

Pressure. The pretty girl in the red bowling shoes just caught Wally checking her out. Whatever benefit Wally hoped to gain from his new shoes and new ball was more than offset by the suffocating angst caused by the possibility that the girl of his dreams might bear witness to his ineptitude. Fear of failure can be debilitating; fear of humiliation can be crushing.

“Let’s go, Wally, you can do it.”

(This was said with great sincerity and determination, but Tom didn’t mean it.)

Wally could feel his Bernie’s bowling shirt tightening, his heart pounding, and his hands sweating. He should have backed off and regrouped, but again, he feared she might be watching. He approached the lane with greater pace than usual, screwed up his steps, stumbled, and on his way down, desperately launched a ball the likes of which had not been seen in the colored history of the sport. It gained more altitude than the laws of physics should have allowed, and it came down on lane #8 with a thundering crack and rumbled off into the gutter. The event drew the attention of everyone in the establishment.

“Holy shit, Wally! What the hell was that?!”

Wally lay on the floor, wishing he were somewhere else. At first, he considered staying there until closing time, but it was only seven o’clock, and his team’s match was only in the second game. As he rose to his feet, despite his instinct of self-preservation telling him not to do it, he glanced in the direction of the pretty girl at lane #9. She was staring right at him.

Wally quickly turned away, but the look on her face stayed frozen in his mind. He dissected her smile over and over again. Prelude to outright laughter? A gesture of compassion and sympathy? Or, was smiling just what she always did?

Compassion… ridicule… compassion… ridicule. The debate raged on in Wally’s mind. What was the intent behind that smile? If he had stayed locked in on her, would he have seen her joining in the uproarious laughter with the others? He tried to imagine a sympathetic frown followed by a warm smile.

A possible climb out of the cellar of the Knights of Columbus Bowling League was on the line, so Wally did his best to focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t working.

“Wally, what’s wrong with you? You’re even worse than you usually are.”

“I think I’m in love, Tom.”

“What? How’d that happen?”

“Don’t be obvious, but take a look at the girl on lane #9.”

Tom took a look.

“Wally, there’s no one on lane #9. It’s empty.”

Wally looked for himself. She was gone.

“Pretty short romance, my friend.”

Wally awakened from his dream, which he fully understood to be just that, a dream. He knew this wasn’t the time or place to meet the young lady. She was with her friends and seemed to be taking the event seriously. He also knew he lacked the courage to approach her under any circumstances.

With the distraction removed, Wally’s game soared to a sizzling 115 just two pins away from helping to pull Bernie’s Bar out of last place. Nonetheless, Wally and Tom considered it a moral victory.

“Wally, the beer is on me. We may never see back-to-back spares from you again.”

“Thanks, Tom. Yeah, I was feelin’ it out there.”

Fate sometimes has a funny way of disrupting lives. On their way to the bar, Wally noticed a single bowling shoe near the bench at lane #9. It was bright red with flames on the sides. He immediately understood the possibilities.

“Tom, that pretty girl I told you about. She left one of her bowling shoes here. It must have fallen out of her bag.”

“Just give it to Freddy behind the bar, Wally. She’ll probably come back for it.”

Wally was conflicted. The shoe offered him the chance to meet the pretty girl on lane #9.

“I don’t know, Tom. I might have another idea.”

“You’re not going to get much for a single bowling shoe on eBay, Wally.”

Self-interest vs. doing the right thing. If there were some way to do it, returning the shoe himself would present the opportunity to meet the pretty girl. But Wally knew the odds of anything coming from it were slim, and Wally was a good man. Sneaky subterfuge was not in his character.

“Freddy, a girl on #9 left this shoe. I’m sure she’ll be looking for it, so I’ll just leave it with you.”

“I know who you’re talking about. I recognize the shoe, and that won’t work. It was a group of girls in town for some kind of tech convention. They said this was their last night in town. I think they were from Denver.”

Wally wasn’t sure how to take the news. Had he turned the shoe over to Freddy, his fantasy would be over. This way, he still had that shoe, and he could still dream.

“Wally, please tell me you’re not taking that shoe home with you.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll try to get the shoe back to her.”

“Wally, Denver is like a thousand miles from here. You can’t be serious.”

Wally seemed to be giving it some thought.

“Oh no, Wally, I hope it’s not one of those shoe fetish things.”

“Shut up, Tom.”

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Later that evening, Wally sipped his beer while watching the Cubs game on TV. Every so often, he glanced at the bright red bowling shoe on the bookcase. Heartfelt memento or genesis for a noble quest?

A quick Google search revealed the host of the tech convention. Wally was on it Monday morning.

“Hello, did your company sponsor the big tech convention in the city this past weekend?”

“Yes, that was us.”

“Well, could I get a list of names of every woman who attended the convention who was from Denver?”

“I don’t think we could do that, sir. We had over twelve hundred people here.”

“What if I narrowed it down to a girl who was a really good bowler?”

“Uh… that’s not going to help. Sorry.”

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“You’re out of your mind, Wally.”

“It was the way she smiled at me when I took that dive, Tom.”

“She was laughing at you just like all the others.”

“I don’t think so. I think she felt bad for me. It was a nice smile. I think she liked me.”

“Oh my God, Wally. How could you possibly know that? And what difference does it make? You’re never going to see her again.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

Wally was deep in thought.

“…unless I could find a way to return the shoe to her.”

“Do you see any problems with that, Wally? Like, first you don’t know who she is, and second… and this is a big one, she’s a thousand miles away.”

Suddenly, Tom started to laugh.

“Wally, have you seen the movie, Dumb and Dumber?”

“No.”

“You should. You could star in a sequel- Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest. Travel halfway across the country to return something to a pretty girl. And just how do you plan on finding her in Denver?”

“Do you remember Mr. Stefanko telling us in chemistry class that preparation is the key to success?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m going to make a list of every business in Denver that uses technology in some way and then go pay them a visit. I’ll check them off one by one until I find her.”

“Uh… Wally, do you have any idea how many that might be, like maybe every business in the city, like maybe thousands?”

“Stefanko also said you have to be persistent.”

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Wally was grousing about the cost of airfare all the way to the airport.

“You are out of your flippin’ mind, Wally.”

“This is the stuff dreams are made of, Tom. You can be the best man at my wedding.”

“Did you get your list done?”

“I just printed it off the Internet. Here it is, in alphabetical order.”

Wally pulled a stack of papers out of his carry-on bag.

“Jesus Christ, Wally, that’s like hundreds of pages.”

“Yeah, it’s a little more than I thought. It’s a good thing I’ve got the whole summer off. This might take a while.”

“Duh.”

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Wally had been at it for weeks.

“Good morning, is this the main office for Parson’s Printers?”

“Yes, it is. How may I help you?”

“Do you have a technology department?”

“Sort of, just me and Dorothy over there at the desk next to the window.”

“Thank you.”

Wally checked Parson’s Printers off his list and headed for Pat’s Plumbing. It had been an exhausting 3 weeks. He was thinking he perhaps should have employed a geographical grid approach to his search rather than his alphabetical-based efforts, as he spent half his time criss-crossing the city, traveling from business to business.

That night, sitting alone in his hotel room, Wally stared at the stack of places yet to be visited. In a moment, he realized the folly of the search. She might have been absent from work the day he was there, or out to lunch, or running an errand. What if she worked at one of the countless companies located in the suburbs surrounding Denver? Tom was right, he thought. He had been on a fool’s errand.

Wally looked at the bowling shoe on the hotel room nightstand. It occurred to him that if he ever did find her, the chances of her having an interest in him probably hovered close to the odds of him someday throwing a 300 game. The dream was over.

Wally was tired. He visited businesses across the city from 8:00 AM until 6:00PM. He picked up the remote, and just as he was going to turn off the TV, ESPN aired a spot plugging the upcoming National Professional Bowling Championships in Reno, Nevada. He chuckled to himself as bowling was at the beginning of his journey, and it now showed up at the end.

Then it hit him. Bowling! The girl in the red shoes wasn’t just a techie; she was also a bowler, a very good bowler. Considering there were far fewer bowling alleys in Denver than businesses, instead of looking for a techie at a business, he should have been looking for a bowler at a bowling alley! The hunt was back on!

He imagined the moment.

“Excuse me, Miss, I believe you may have been looking for this.”

“My shoe! Oh my God, how could I ever thank you?! You must be the most wonderful person in the world to bring my shoe all this way. I’ve always dreamed that someday I’d meet a man like you!”

She would then throw her arms around him and cry tears of joy.

Wally was re-energized. He made a new list, much shorter than his first voluminous work product. His spirits soared as he reviewed his list of 38 bowling establishments, a very doable number. The next day, he started at Denver’s premier bowling establishment, the Lucky Strike. Wally strolled back and forth behind the lanes from late afternoon until closing. Despite the venue’s name, Wally found no luck there.

He picked up the pace, hitting 2-3 bowling establishments a night, focusing on league bowling events. Wally was everywhere you might find a bowling ball, and dedicated bowlers throughout the city were soon referring to him as “the weird guy with the red bowling shoe”.

The Bolero- nothing; Wheat Ridge- nothing; Crown Lanes- nothing; nothing, nothing, nothing. Wally was not deterred. The prize easily fended off any possible temptation to surrender.

Chipper’s Lanes. Wally was nearing the end of his quest. The flames of hope were flickering.

He saw her the moment he walked in. She was just releasing the ball, knees bent, arms extended, and cute as a button. Wally felt like he was seeing a ghost, a beautiful ghost. After all the days and nights of searching, he suddenly realized the challenge had just begun. He was the dog that finally caught the car. Now what does he do?

She was with a group of young women. This was good as Wally wouldn’t have to deal with a meddlesome boyfriend. He moved closer and then retreated to his safe place, a bench behind the alley three lanes over. Wally repeated this tactic of questionable value over and over again. He had rehearsed the lines he would employ when he brandished the shoe before her, but in this moment of high anxiety, nay, extreme fear, he forgot them all.

Her group was preparing to leave. Now or never, Wally. Three deep breaths, a quick prayer, and Wally approached her. She was puzzled as Wally stood before her, one hand behind his back.

“Excuse me, sir, but can I help you with something?”

Showtime.

“Perhaps I can help you with something.”

With a touch of a smug smile, Wally produced the shoe from behind his back. She was startled.

“That looks like a bowing shoe I once had.”

“It is the bowling shoe you once had.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“You left it behind at the Pin Crazy bowling alley in Chicago. I found it and thought you might want it back.”

“Chicago? That was weeks ago.”

“It must have fallen out of your bag as you were getting ready to leave.”

“Now I remember. I must have dropped it on the way to the garbage can. My friends gave them to me as a joke, and I just wore them that one night. They were too silly for me. So, why do you have the shoe? And what are you doing with it here in Denver?”

Wally’s confidence was slipping.

“Well, I saw you left it behind, and I thought you might want it.”

Wally saw the smile that first captivated him.

“And you traveled here all the way from Chicago to get it back to me?”

Wally’s confidence was making a comeback.

“Yes.”

“Well, I really don’t want it. You can just toss it in the garbage on your way out. Have a safe trip back to Chicago.”

And she was gone.

Wally reflected on possible lessons to be learned on the flight back to Chicago… with a heavy reliance on one of mankind’s greatest drives- rationalization. Maybe the measure of a good deed isn’t in the outcome but in the effort. Maybe there was a benefit in learning about the culture of a city he had not previously visited. Maybe she wasn’t as cute as he thought. Maybe bowling was stupid, and he should quit Bernie’s bowling team. Or… maybe the pretty girl in seat 15C just smiled at him. Maybe he could find a way to meet her on the way out of the gate area. Maybe she'll forget her carry-on bag. Maybe they’d live happily ever after together. Maybe…

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