A Croc of Shit.

It's happened.  I flew with a flight attendant who wore Crocs for her inflight shoes. I know! Gross! My eyeballs almost bugged completely out of their sockets when they drifted to the horrors engulfing her feet.  Thankfully no charms for added flair but she may as well have pinned a Hello Kitty or two to them they were so distracting.  And I thought Danskos were bad enough...you know who you are ladies.

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. 

Eye Vomit

Fashion is mostly dead in my airline world. What happened to caring about what you put on your body and feet? It's all a blur of 3/$10 souvenir T-shirts, logo blasts, tattoo prints, tapered jeans and khakis, embroidery and bedazzlement. And I've learned to handle these monstrosities but I won't put up with Crocs. No, dammit I will not! I'm putting my pumps down on that one.