Okay so I’ve never really been a high heel wearing kind of gal. Not to school, parties, downtown, just never. I don’t know if it was my lack of grace or my keen ability to hit and or trip over inanimate objects that did me in but those suckers just aren’t my cup of tea. Especially on cobble stone streets and sidewalks, which, if you didn’t already know, is what the entire European continent is made of.
But once again after moving to Copenhagen, I found myself the minority in this world of lavish and chic. I was in a predicament. A predicament that could squander my eternal European plight to appear Un-American. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the only people here not wearing high heels were the men, and the handful of Americans who needn’t read further to heed my advice. It was this awareness that permitted my guilt free 699 DKK high-heeled boot purchase. C’mon, wedges couldn’t be that hard to walk in…right?
So eventually the weekend was upon us, and those Godforsaken shoes were on my feet. And out I went, bearing the wind and the cold for an inevitable night of European decadence.
Walk to the Metro: Check
Walk to Club Number 1: Check
Walk to Club Number 2: Check
Walk back to the Metro: The Good Part of the Story
So yes, it went as you might have expected. In a valiant attempt to get one of my girl friends back into the club for “just one more song” began the deadly tango between my high-heeled shoes and the cobble stone sidewalk. This dance of death left me on the ground and my shoes completely kaput.
And don’t worry, all of the people loitering outside of the club played witness to my “tumble.” Both them and I were in hysterics—mine of agony and theirs of laugher. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t walk, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have made it home without a VERY generous piggyback ride from one of my cohorts.
Thankfully, the next morning a friend biked me to the nearest Danish doctor’s office and I was given a substantial amount of pain medicine and instructions on how to heal my sprained ankle. I wasn’t sure at first if my “situation” would be covered by my travelers insurance, but a friend of mine had mentioned that a company called First4Lawyers.com would be able to help me out if I wasn’t able to get any compensation. My worries were extinguished.
I nursed my tumescent ankle back to heath with the help of a bag of frozen veggies and a substantial amount of whining. But now, looking back on the event, I have begun to see the humor behind my misfortune. I may be back on my feet, but I am ardently hesitant about putting those bad boys back on.