New Castle News
NEW CASTLE —
As you probably already know, I am the coolest guy in the room no matter the company or the occasion.
I am dapper, handsome, and, of course, the hippest. I am the most “in” guy and, by default, the most trendy person this side of the muddy Mississippi. My non-mainstream fashion sense and musical independence exemplify my elite status.
It's a yoke of perfection that I willing accept and wear with pride. I feel like my mere existence makes the world a better place. That is, until my path crosses that of a mirror and the stark reality of my being comes crashing back to the forefront of my mind — destroying my perfectly developed fictional reality.
Just the other day, I was high above the other humans in my vicinity and I was jolted back to reality with earth-shattering quickness.
I was strolling through a store and perpetually checking my phone for all the important messages I receive from my influential and hip friends.
As I sauntered toward the front of the store, it felt as though there was something slippery under my shoe. I did not bother looking down because I was too engrossed in my phone and checking Facebook for the third time in a five-minute stretch to bother. It didn't feel like it was important. It couldn’t be more than a little piece of paper or something of that nature.
I parked myself in the first checkout line and smiled at the young girl working there. She asked how my day was going. I responded with the better than cliché answer, “Great!” There was no need for me to say more because she quickly smiled at me when she realized just how amazingly cool I was.
We exchanged more pleasantries as she rang up all my merchandise. I said, “Thank you,” and she responded with, “My pleasure.” Of course, it was her pleasure, I thought as I began to walk out of the store to my car.
I glanced downward as I patted my pockets, looking for my car keys, and there it was! A residual traveler had attached itself to my shoe. A several foot long piece of white toilet paper had clung to the sole of my shoes and was holding on for dear life.
I must have acquired this piece of bathroom fare when I made a quick restroom stop when I first entered the store. It had been there the whole time. Up and down the aisle I went. Acting the fool as I'm sure people pointed and laughed to each other. And the check-out girl, I'm sure she is inside telling her co-workers about this guy she just saw with toilet paper stuck to his shoes.
There goes my artificially inflated self-image right down the toilet (no better place for it to go in this story). The only saving grave of the whole situation was that it wasn't hanging out of my pants.
Now that would have been embarrassing and would have completely ruined my hipster image.