So I thought she'd change into her appropriate "concourse" mandatory heels after deplaning our flight like most of us do...it's how we fake the little glamour we have left. To my embarrassment, she didn't. She walked all over the airport in those flippers with me by her side. I tried to drift behind her but she slowed to meet my strut with her clunk. It was like that recurring nightmare when you're running as fast as you can but the scenery stays the same. I felt like all eyes were upon us...judging her footwear and subsequently me by association. And then I realized where we were, the airport where it's now sadly acceptable to wear pajamas and wife-beaters as travel wear. I realized quickly that those eyes were not upon her to judge, but because they probably wanted a pair.