I was going to the second floor.

One time in the past, I was going from the second floor to the third floor in an elevator in a library in a town that wasn’t my own. A man hopped in, looked down at my huaraches, and said, “Shoes are a trick from the Man. I wouldn’t wear them, but I have to to come in here.”

I looked down at his sandals. I think they were made of cardboard and yarn the smallest amount of material, I believe, that could still legally qualify as a sandal and gain entry to the library.

I said to him, “My man, they’re not a trick from the Man. I’ve seen a pair of sandals that are 9,000 years old in Fort Rock, Oregon. Unless the Man’s been tricking us for 9,000 years. And by the way, your toenails look amazing. Do you get those professionally done?”

I genuinely wanted to know what he was doing for his pedicure routine his feet looked incredible.

He told me he didn’t want to hear that and started getting very agitated. He began pacing back and forth. I was like, “Okay, dude…”

It was just him and me the only two people in the slowest elevator ever. Oh no. I thought this was fixing to turn south.

He reached into his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out… a pair of socks.

He said, “I don’t give a damn. I ain’t wearing these, no matter what they say.”

I thought to myself, Oh thank goodness. It’s just a pair of socks. I thought, for sure it was a knife and he was fixed to go to town. 

Then I said, “Right on. Easy money.”

At that moment, the elevator doors opened. He hopped out, and I thought, Maybe it’s time I invested in some armor, in a stab vest to go under my shirt, maybe.☮︎