I have a favorite pair of Reefs that I like to wear wherever and whenever I can. Unlike Havaianas which are so dense and heavy they actually give me toe cramps, my Reefs weigh almost nothing. The faux nubuck finish easily gets dirty though and I have to constantly wash and brush them.
Two weeks ago the poor pair finally gave out. I was dismayed to see their backs cheerfully grinning up at me as they dried out under the sun. But, nothing Mighty Bond couldn’t fix, I thought. So after I finished packing for my Boracay trip with old friends, I took the pair and glued the ends. Unfortunately, I also glued my fingers. I ignored it, afraid that the glue would set before I shut the slippers’ offending grin and so I rushed outside, ripped off a piece of brown corrugated paper, carefully placed it over a slipper, positioned a chair on top and sat on it. I smoked. I waited.
After one cigarette I lifted, no ripped, the brown paper away from the slipper and was again dismayed to discover that the bits of paper made my Reef look like it had shit stuck to it. Never mind, I’ll fix it later, I thought, and proceeded to glue and dry the other pair, though this time without the brown paper.
While I sat and waited, I set about removing the glue from my fingers with acetone and cotton, and when that didn’t work, with a foot grater and a nail cutter. For all my effort, I only managed to loosen the joints. Now my fingers look awful, the glue looking like Satanic scabs that might eventually merge to form “666”.
By this time I hated my Reefs. But, like someone stuck in a bad but long relationship, I gritted my teeth and forged on. Fuck this, I thought, I filed and gnawed my fingers to ugliness because of you and I’ll be damned if I can’t wear you to the beach after all the trouble I went through. I was desperate. I colored the shitty paper over with a black marker.
Now I’m stuck with a grotty pair of slippers and scabby fingers. Seeing as it’s already 2am they’ll come in handy when I fret my way to the airport because I didn’t wake up in time.
It’s funny how things don’t work out the way you want them to. I had planned this Boracay trip to be my mid-life fling. My last chance to get a tattoo, engage in empty casual sex, and do all those crazy things I never got to do.
But maybe this twisted Mighty Bond episode is telling me to leave well enough alone. To be happy with what I already have, no matter how imperfect it may be. At least it’s comfortable. And really, it’s kinda hard to act smooth and suave when you’ve got Mighty Bonded fingers. (“Bond. Mighty Bond.”)
It’s ironic how glue can cause one’s grand and mighty plans to come unstuck.
