My friend Ian who was killed by cancer had asked me to grab his Blundstones from work for him when he was diagnosed. "I don't know how long I'll be able to tie my shoes for." I got his boots for him, but picked up a pair of Crocs at the same time. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing these," I told him. "but you don't really have to worry about that." He laughed.
When you're dying of cancer, everyone is so morose around you. Nobody just dicks around. We joked around the few times I got to see him before he passed. Apparently the Crocs I bought him were with him in his hospital room when he died. His wife made sure I knew. She thought I would get a kick out of it. I did.
So I bought a pair. And then my girlfriend decorated them with little ducks when I wasn't looking.
They are terrible shoes. I'm glad I have a pair.
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