i dread buying sneakers.
probably go once every ten years.
and each time i do, it becomes harder to find what i'm looking for, which is a sneaker.
it always goes the same way.
i walk into one of these meccas of athletic shoes, when i'm immediately approached by a young, fit human dressed like a roller derby referee.
young, fit referee: hi sir, can i help you?
me: i'm not sure.
young, fit referee: well, as you can tell we have the largest inventory of athletic shoes this side of madison square garden. so ask away.
me: okay, i'm looking for something called a sneaker. you know, something that feels better than a shoe and is good for making quick cuts and sweet dodges during a rousing game of red rover during recess.
young, fit referee: gee sir, never heard of red rover. some sort of paintball war game affair? because we have six, maybe seven, different types of what i like to call athletic enhancement foot apparel for that? sure we can find something for ya.
me: um ... never mind.
and i leave empty handed—those kind of sneakers.