Impossible Situations #3 What would you do?
Kirsty S asked:
You’ve gone to a posh nightclub with a couple of friends. Having not been out in a while, you decide to go all out and wear a black short dress and a pair of very expensive designer 4.5″ strappy black sandals, with loose straps that wind up your calves. You have fun and party with your friends until the early hours. At one point, on one of your many trips to the bar you run into a woman wearing halter-neck black and white top, black flared mini skirt and a pair of killer 5″ white leather stilettos. You mistakenly step on her shoe, scuffing the leather and not even realising it you ask the bartender for a drink. She taps you on your shoulder and says ‘Excuse you! You’ve just ruined my shoe! These are Armani you know!?’ Looking a little bewildered you respond ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I stepped on your shoes! I’ll buy you a drink!’ ‘A drink?!!?’ she retorts, her voice climbing another octave. ‘Do you realise how much these cost me?’ You look down at her shoes and think they’re really nice, but ultimately is was an accident and you think she’s over-reacting. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but it was an accident. Not much I can do.’ The bartender bring you your drink. ‘What shoes are you wearing, she asks with a distasteful look on her face.’ ‘Oh, I just go these last week. They’re Jimmy Choos.’ The other woman’s face relaxed considerably. ‘They look lovely, what size are you?’ Not really bothered anymore and wanting to go back to your friends you respond ‘Size 6…. Look sorry about your shoes.’ and you walk off leaving her at the bar.
The night continues and you’ve had way too much to drink and your friends are still partying hard. Feeling very noxious you plead with them to leave but they decline. You then make your way out of the club, stumbling along in your heels and wishing you could remember a cab number to call. That’s when you bump into the woman you barely remember at the bar outside. ‘Are you alright hon?’ she asks you smiling. ‘Fine thanks.’ you reply, your words slurring slightly. ‘Just looking for a taxi… have you seen any?’ ‘As a matter of fact I’m looking for them too, and I was told they’re just on the other street behind the club. Just through here…’ she walks into a side street and you follow. Both your heels tapping loudly against the asphalt as you make your way down the narrow side street. You then feel like you’re going to be sick and you stop, leaning against the wall. You slide down onto the floor on your knees and wretch. You notice her coming behind you and asking if you’re ok. At this point you’re not really concerned, the world is spinning too fast and you feel awful. You can feel something tugging at your legs but you barely give it any attention as you get ready to wretch again. You feel the tugging again and after the second vomit you feel a lot better, and your mind gets a little clearer. That’s when you realise your feet are touching the cold asphalt. You look back and see the woman in her halter neck and flared mini skirt, just finishing tying the strap of your sandals on her legs. ‘What the hell are you doing with my shoes??’ You ask alarmed. ‘You ruined mine b*tch, so I’ll have yours.’ and with that she tosses her white pumps onto the puddle of puke you’ve just thrown up and it splatters on your dress. She laughs and continues to walk down the street to the line of taxis waiting at the bottom of the road in your Jimmy Choo stiletto sandals…. What would you do?
You’ve gone to a posh nightclub with a couple of friends. Having not been out in a while, you decide to go all out and wear a black short dress and a pair of very expensive designer 4.5″ strappy black sandals, with loose straps that wind up your calves. You have fun and party with your friends until the early hours. At one point, on one of your many trips to the bar you run into a woman wearing halter-neck black and white top, black flared mini skirt and a pair of killer 5″ white leather stilettos. You mistakenly step on her shoe, scuffing the leather and not even realising it you ask the bartender for a drink. She taps you on your shoulder and says ‘Excuse you! You’ve just ruined my shoe! These are Armani you know!?’ Looking a little bewildered you respond ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I stepped on your shoes! I’ll buy you a drink!’ ‘A drink?!!?’ she retorts, her voice climbing another octave. ‘Do you realise how much these cost me?’ You look down at her shoes and think they’re really nice, but ultimately is was an accident and you think she’s over-reacting. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but it was an accident. Not much I can do.’ The bartender bring you your drink. ‘What shoes are you wearing, she asks with a distasteful look on her face.’ ‘Oh, I just go these last week. They’re Jimmy Choos.’ The other woman’s face relaxed considerably. ‘They look lovely, what size are you?’ Not really bothered anymore and wanting to go back to your friends you respond ‘Size 6…. Look sorry about your shoes.’ and you walk off leaving her at the bar.
The night continues and you’ve had way too much to drink and your friends are still partying hard. Feeling very noxious you plead with them to leave but they decline. You then make your way out of the club, stumbling along in your heels and wishing you could remember a cab number to call. That’s when you bump into the woman you barely remember at the bar outside. ‘Are you alright hon?’ she asks you smiling. ‘Fine thanks.’ you reply, your words slurring slightly. ‘Just looking for a taxi… have you seen any?’ ‘As a matter of fact I’m looking for them too, and I was told they’re just on the other street behind the club. Just through here…’ she walks into a side street and you follow. Both your heels tapping loudly against the asphalt as you make your way down the narrow side street. You then feel like you’re going to be sick and you stop, leaning against the wall. You slide down onto the floor on your knees and wretch. You notice her coming behind you and asking if you’re ok. At this point you’re not really concerned, the world is spinning too fast and you feel awful. You can feel something tugging at your legs but you barely give it any attention as you get ready to wretch again. You feel the tugging again and after the second vomit you feel a lot better, and your mind gets a little clearer. That’s when you realise your feet are touching the cold asphalt. You look back and see the woman in her halter neck and flared mini skirt, just finishing tying the strap of your sandals on her legs. ‘What the hell are you doing with my shoes??’ You ask alarmed. ‘You ruined mine b*tch, so I’ll have yours.’ and with that she tosses her white pumps onto the puddle of puke you’ve just thrown up and it splatters on your dress. She laughs and continues to walk down the street to the line of taxis waiting at the bottom of the road in your Jimmy Choo stiletto sandals…. What would you do?
Tags: Bartender, Jimmy Choos, Short Dress
January 12th, 2009 at 2:30 pm
i would freak out
January 14th, 2009 at 10:59 pm
‘What the hell are you doing with my shoes??’ You ask alarmed. ‘You ruined mine b*tch, so I’ll have yours.’ and with that she tosses her white pumps onto the puddle of puke you’ve just thrown up and it splatters on your dress. She laughs and continues to walk down the street to the line of taxis waiting at the bottom
January 15th, 2009 at 3:33 am
TBH I would never get into a situation like that. My answer would be to report her to the police, as she just nicked your shoes. Its not a creative answer though…
January 17th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
Are you sure you’re not writing a novel here?
January 18th, 2009 at 4:17 pm
I would take the puked on shoes and throw them at her. Get it all in her hair and everything…then trip her and get my shoes back.
January 19th, 2009 at 10:47 pm
You should write “choose your own adventure” books for adults!…as for a creative answer, here goes……I would ask her if we could eat each others hair pie.
January 23rd, 2009 at 9:31 am
Well, I know I won’t get the points. I did enjoy the story though. What I would do is saturate those icky white shoes in the puke and toss them at her. I’d also say, “BTW I do suffer from planters warts”
January 25th, 2009 at 12:57 am
Id chase after her,(being able to run far better without my killer heels) with her now puke soaked pumps in my hand.
Id throw them at the back of her head so she stops.
Id ask for my shoes back. if she declined id puke on her feet. lol
yes it ruins my shoes too but at least she wouldnt want them then.
Id then take her armani ones home and sell em on ebay – people will buy anything these days!
January 26th, 2009 at 7:05 am
i would go to her plead her to give my shoes back n try to make her understand that ,that was just an accident .yet if she refuses i will give her a slap snatch my sandals back n go on ……….or i would call for a cop
January 28th, 2009 at 5:30 am
Ewww! All this talk about throwing puke-shoes at her hair, and puking on her, or on the shoes she took! Gross. I dont know about ya’ll but I **** puke. I **** it so much that I dont even want to be around it! You sickos!! Seriously who would really do that if ya’ll were actualy in this situation?! Nobody, thats who.
If it were me, and depending on how drunk i was, I would get in a cab and follow her. Follow her wherever she went. Then when she got out of the cab and into her apartment I would come back the following day and the next day and the next day until I knew everything about her. Who her friends were, where she worked, ate lunch, worked out, etc. That would give me ample time to get revenge if I really wanted it. Nothing too crazy. If I wanted to be nice about it I would get the puke-shoes cleaned [professionaly] and show up at her place and give them to her. Tell her that I had them cleaned and if we could trade back. If I wanted to be devious then I could show up at her apartment a week later (so she wont remember me) with my friends and say that we are looking for a friends house and we are lost. Then I would ask to use her phone. While my friends are distracting her, I would ask to use the restroom. sneak back there snatch the jimmy choos and eighty-six that place!
I think thats pretty original!
Take care,
John.
January 31st, 2009 at 4:37 pm
I pick up the scuffed stiletto she had tossed in the vomit and sprint toward her. Holding the stilletto like a knife I catch up to her. She screamed even before I jabbed the heel in the side of her face. I grab her long black hair and pull her to the ground. While she is still screaming and holding her face I yank my jimmy choos from her feet. I dont bother putting them back on. I begin to walk off and look back at her with sweet revenge on my face I ask ” I bet you never thought Armani could be so painful” I muster up a a little devilish laugh despite the burn I feel on my bare feet. I toss my shoes in the back of a cab and climb in. I looked down at her still on the ground as the cabbie drove off and grinned. She read my lips as I said **** this and held up my long middle finger.