Are Too.
Matching socks are overrated. You can call me unsophisticated, a simpleton, crude, or boorish -- but the fact still remains, matching socks are not needed, they are nonessential.
I came upon this FACT, not theory, back in 1989. I was attending The Foreign Alliance of Revisional Tacticmatics',FARTM for short, almost-annual convention and award ceremony. That year the bash was being held in Springfield, I was coming from Philly. I missed my flight; after 7 hours of waiting for another plane I decided to hitch a ride. Although illegal in PA; 11 car rides later I arrived at the Porcelain Palace Hotel for the FARTM convention. With 30 minutes to spare I quickly checked into my room, and made a mad dash to the shower.
Time check. I had 10 minutes before the start of the award ceremony. The award ceremony which I was receiving an award at. I couldn't be late. I had my dockers on, my short-sleeve dress shirt on, but I couldn't find any matching socks. As it turns out, my roommate, Yetzel -- a real Swiss from Switzerland -- he pulled the old switch-a-roo. Accidentally of course, he gave me his sock bag, after doing my wash, instead of mine. So, instead of having 15 pairs of beautifully matching American socks. I had 31 individual, unmatching, Swiss socks. If I may . . .in 1921, the soon-to-be-dead Ottoman Empire, like a last gasp of air, a last hoorah if you will, tried to invade Switzerland. Unsuccessful --the Swiss Army defeated the Ottomans with their new found weapon, their army knife. Which, at the time only featured one knife and a corkscrew. So, with the failure of the invasion The Otts decided to win another way. Long story, short. The Ottoman Empire stole one sock from every pair in Switzerland. Leaving the Swiss with no matching socks. Hence, in honor of each and every fallen sock from 1921, the Swiss to this day wear unmatching socks.
So, with a bagful of Swiss socks, and eight minutes to showtime, I did the only thing a person in my position could have done. I put on the friggin' unmatching summamabitches. With those bastard childs on my feet my forehead started to cry. A cold, clammy cry. The room started to get smaller, as if it was a killer compacting room of some evil genius. I sat and started to sob. Flashes of people staring at my feet, pointing and ridiculing, ravaged my delirious mind.
Two hours later. I missed the award ceremony, I missed the chance to accept my award, but that didn't even matter. I was relieved. I had been chit-chatting with people for several minutes, and no one, not even the man with the big eyes noticed my unmatching socks.
And from that day forward I had promised myself never to forget that life lesson: Unmatching socks are okay, they are encouraged. It's all just Snakes on a Plane!
I came upon this FACT, not theory, back in 1989. I was attending The Foreign Alliance of Revisional Tacticmatics',FARTM for short, almost-annual convention and award ceremony. That year the bash was being held in Springfield, I was coming from Philly. I missed my flight; after 7 hours of waiting for another plane I decided to hitch a ride. Although illegal in PA; 11 car rides later I arrived at the Porcelain Palace Hotel for the FARTM convention. With 30 minutes to spare I quickly checked into my room, and made a mad dash to the shower.
Time check. I had 10 minutes before the start of the award ceremony. The award ceremony which I was receiving an award at. I couldn't be late. I had my dockers on, my short-sleeve dress shirt on, but I couldn't find any matching socks. As it turns out, my roommate, Yetzel -- a real Swiss from Switzerland -- he pulled the old switch-a-roo. Accidentally of course, he gave me his sock bag, after doing my wash, instead of mine. So, instead of having 15 pairs of beautifully matching American socks. I had 31 individual, unmatching, Swiss socks. If I may . . .in 1921, the soon-to-be-dead Ottoman Empire, like a last gasp of air, a last hoorah if you will, tried to invade Switzerland. Unsuccessful --the Swiss Army defeated the Ottomans with their new found weapon, their army knife. Which, at the time only featured one knife and a corkscrew. So, with the failure of the invasion The Otts decided to win another way. Long story, short. The Ottoman Empire stole one sock from every pair in Switzerland. Leaving the Swiss with no matching socks. Hence, in honor of each and every fallen sock from 1921, the Swiss to this day wear unmatching socks.
So, with a bagful of Swiss socks, and eight minutes to showtime, I did the only thing a person in my position could have done. I put on the friggin' unmatching summamabitches. With those bastard childs on my feet my forehead started to cry. A cold, clammy cry. The room started to get smaller, as if it was a killer compacting room of some evil genius. I sat and started to sob. Flashes of people staring at my feet, pointing and ridiculing, ravaged my delirious mind.
Two hours later. I missed the award ceremony, I missed the chance to accept my award, but that didn't even matter. I was relieved. I had been chit-chatting with people for several minutes, and no one, not even the man with the big eyes noticed my unmatching socks.
And from that day forward I had promised myself never to forget that life lesson: Unmatching socks are okay, they are encouraged. It's all just Snakes on a Plane!
This entry was posted by Geoff, on
Wednesday, April 26, 2006.
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