No. 275 – Drowned

Performer: The Who

Songwriter: Pete Townshend

Original Release: Quadrophenia

Year: 1973

Definitive Version: The Who Rocks America, 1983. The Who’s final concert was a fairly tame affair. This song, which I didn’t know at the time, was the notable exception. It was easily The Who’s best song that night.

There’s a woman who uses my train stop, and in another universe, she’s probably besties with my ex, Beth. It probably only seems that she never wears a pair of shoes twice and that she must own 1,000 pairs. Today, as I write this, she wore canvas flats that had a bright red rose print.

A straight man noticing a woman’s shoes that don’t consist of a 6-inch spiked heel and a lot of bare leg above it is saying something, but Beth sure gave me enough practice. Beth wasn’t Imelda Marcos, but she did all right for someone of her means: She collected shoes like I collected baseball cards, and there was no question who had more shoeboxes in his or her closet. Definitely, it was Beth.

Invariably, as part of our “date” routine every other week or so, we’d hit a couple of shoe stores. I was fine with it, not just to placate her and thus keep the constant stream of sex flowing, but also because it allowed me to indulge in my hobbies. Every once in a while, if we were either out by Westland or east of Clintonville, I could hit the two baseball card shops that existed in Columbus back then. That said, I still made it a point to do that more when Beth wasn’t around—definitely for placation purposes.

But Beth made no bones about shoe shopping with me around. I mean, who else was going to carry all the boxes? Her favorite store was at Graceland Shopping Center, which was one of my favorite shopping centers when I was a kid. (I have a story coming that pertains to Graceland.) I don’t remember the name of the shoe store, but it was an independent—weren’t they all 30 years ago?

Beth loved the store, because it was relatively cheap and all the shoes were out for easy access and trying on. I liked it because it was close to a Friendly’s ice cream shop and the store had a wealth of chairs for husbands and boyfriends.

Beth always said I could shop for myself, too, but I was like what Dennis Miller said decades ago when he was funny: I had one pair of gym shoes and one pair of church shoes, and I was good to go. So I’d sit and wait patiently as Beth wandered around the store. If she wore something sexy, I’d wait a little less patiently.

Every once in a while, I’d get bored and wander around the store to get a little exercise. One day, we left without Beth buying anything—it happened—and Beth was in a bit of a huff. Uh oh, what did I do now? I did nothing, but Beth didn’t take too kindly to the store clerk checking me out. “So I shot HIM a death glare that HE won’t soon forget.”

“Him?” I was checked out by a guy? I laughed. That probably was a first for me—at least that I was aware of—and honestly, I felt a bit of relief. If the store clerk had been a woman, then I would have been trouble, too.