Dirty dancing

Last night, I walked into Cafe Rio and got in the long line for my pork salad (my little stamp card got me a free meal!). I wasn't even in line before a small, middle-aged lady with graying hair pointed at my feet, looked at me and said, "I love your shoes!" I told her thanks and figured that would be it. She continued, "Where did you get them." My response: "Payless...can you believe that?" Again, I thought it was the end of discussion.



Her further question: "Do you think they'd stay on when you're dancing?" I was kind of taken aback..."Uh...I'm not sure? I mean, I walk around in them, and they're good. Maybe if you don't get too crazy when you dance..." Her final reply: "Oh, I get pretty crazy...it's like diiirty dancing." I laughed at the awkward turn in the conversation, and mercifully, the line moved so we were no longer in such close proximity.

Thank you, Mysterious Stranger, for validating my taste in shoes and then turning around and making me somewhat squeamish at the thought of your 'dirty' dancing.