If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

I remember it clearly. It was the weekend before finals week and we were all pilling into Lander on our way for some tacos and egg rolls from Jack in the Crack. I distinctly recall opening the heavy-set dormitory door and quickly stepping aside, holding the door for the ladies and gentleman of my entourage. While I was holding this monstrous monsoon of a door, I glanced down at my aged black Quicksilver sandals. I remembered the first day I bought them with my new girlfriend from the Irvine Spectrum, more than two years ago. Moronically, as though I wanted to jinx myself, I thought to myself, “Damn, these sandals have really done me well. I’ve had them for more than two years! Talk about quality build.” And as the telltale goes, the very next fucking day, I am walking to dinner with the Del Trio and shhnap, the right-footed sandal just lay dead and unwearable — broken and bursting at the seems. The day before there was minimal worn visibility and the next day, it looks like death. Roadkill. Zilch.

I hobbled my way to and from the school cafeteria, thinking of a game plan for my humble feet. The conclusion of my thinking was rather obvious and easy. I was just going to steal the girlfriend’s sandals until I could think of a better solution; forcing the girlfriend to wear one of her other 498528947349824 (this number is exact as of 06/27/05) pairs of shoes available. Unfortunately, the very next day, I broke her pair of sandals too. And let me tell you — she was not pleased with how that game plan unfolded.

After breaking two different sandals in two days, I was quickly running out of shoe-options. Nobody was willing to lend me a pair — due to my high risk involved with foot attire destruction — I was a true liability. I really didn’t have the time nor money to go buy a new pair given the stressful week of finals and my current unemployed status, respectively. Fortunately, I ended up borrowing Danny’s hand-me-down Old Navy pair (which hurt like a bitch) for a day and then on to my father’s flower-encrusted will-rip-your-pinky-toe right off Faded Glory’s. Finally, after enduring a long hard week of shoelessness and depositing some prize money checks at my local bank, I was able to go all out on my shoe/sandal and footing needs. Do you know where I went? I bet you do.

Yes, that’s right. Today I joined the illustrious group of men and women who proudly sport Rainbow © sandals. The Mercedes Benz BMW of the sandal world, these cream of the crop sandals are hand made right here in Southern California by marginalized Hispanics who work for less than $6.75/quarter. And I am a proud contributor and enabler of this economic system. Shame on me. But the sandals are bitchin’.

The cousins and I drove down to the Rainbow Factory in San Clemente, CA where I picked up two pairs of double-layer premier leather khaki sandals; one for myself and the other for the girlfriend. I must admit that these sandals are exceptionally comfortable and for the factory wholesale price — cannot be beat. Thanks to my cousin Arshia for the hot tip. Thanks to all those who helped and donated their sandals in the mean time. I won’t forget you little people.

I hope you like your new pair, girlfriend.

Adieu. Navid.