Jenny and I were movie buddies throughout our college years. We would watch all the big blockbusters together and whenever there was some indie film on that she was interested in, you better believe that I would be there.
Jenny had this habit of removing her shoes when she was in the movie theater. She would sit cross-legged most of the time, but if the theater was empty, she would extend her legs and rest them on the seat in front.
This routine never really caused any issues, except for one time. That one time was when Jenny was wearing a pair of Havaiana flip fops and sweat pants. It was early in the summer and the first major box office movie was released. Jenny and I decided to catch one of the first showings and the entire theater was packed.
As the movie rolled on, Jenny assumed her cross-legged position and her flip flops were carefully place on the ground in front of her seat.
About an hour into the movie, a larger man seated a couple of seats away had to use the washroom. He shuffled across the row, right in front of Jenny and made his way to the exit. I didn’t think too much of it, and Jenny obviously didn’t either. When the man came back, he went through the exact same routine and shuffled his large body across the row. Jenny seemed annoyed at this more than anything else.
When the movie ended and the lights came on, this was when we realized something was wrong.
“Shit!” Jenny whispered loudly, almost like yelling without actually having the volume of a yell.
“What?” I asked.
“I lost my flip flop,” Jenny said as she showed her right barefoot. She had green nail polish on, must have been for the beach or the summer.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Jenny said, as she reluctantly put her barefoot down on the cinema floor.
Jenny hobbled up and down the surround rows, desperately hoping to find her discarded shoe.
“These floors are disgusting,” Jenny said as she glanced at her barefoot, “I think I stepped in someone’s spilled pop.”
We continued to look under the seats in front and the seats behind, but there was no sign of her flip flop.
Jenny sighed as she had to walk on her tip toe with her exposed foot through the sticky cinema floor, then the theater hallways before walking back to the car through the dirty parking garage.
What had likely happened was the man had accidentally kicked one of Jenny’s flip flops away. And some teenager or young kid in the theater probably saw it when the movie ended and threw it away or kept it.
Our next stop? I accompanied Jenny as she went shoe shopping.