The Rick Perry Luncheon Part Three: The Luncheon

We arrive in Austin. I somehow manage to get my impossible shoes back on my feet and exit the van. I then cross the street in a timely enough manner so I am not hit by oncoming traffic. Major success. This is around the time we find out Rick Perry isn’t going to be at the Rick Perry luncheon. I know you are probably upset that you read this whole thing only to find out that Rick Perry never even makes an appearance, but at least you didn’t have to wear pinchy shoes. So, quit complaining.

In all honesty, Rick Perry was never even formally designated to show up at this luncheon. I merely assumed Rick Perry would be at the luncheon because he was at the luncheon last year. That is called prediction based on previous events. It is very scientifical.

Turns out, Rick Perry sent a perfectly suitable replacement. I should have known something was up when the guy took the stage and I saw he was wearing cowboy boots with his business suit. I didn’t even know you could do that. Then, he opens his mouth and starts trying to be funny. Except, his idea of being funny just pisses me off. He starts off talking about bumper stickers on trucks. I am naively sitting in my chair with shoes on because that is what people do, looking at him and pretending to be interested while wondering how long this is going to take when he blurts out, “Piss off a liberal. Get a job, work hard, and be happy.”

At first I am confused. Why would a person get on a stage and say that? That is a really dumb thing to say. Before Lucy’s Football blog, I would have had no idea how to react to this guy. But, Lucy’s Football blog has prepared me for this day. The guy is an ASS HAT. Capital ASS, capital HAT. Now when he starts telling us we need to close off the Texas borders to keep out everyone coming over from Mexico, I am fully expecting it. I am a bit surprised he leaves out the heat seeking laser missiles.

About two minutes into the ASS HAT speech, I suddenly realize that if I had wanted to listen to this sort of thing, I would have grabbed a bottle of vodka and turned on the Republican debates. Instead, I have no vodka and I am in impossible shoes. I am trapped.  Rick Perry’s evil twin finally ends his speech with a rant about small government and big business. There is a long invocation in which I bow my head respectfully for so long I need a chiropractor. Then, at long last, we get to eat our lunch.

All throughout lunch and the long speeches, I have had my shoes on. This is what people do. They sit at lunch with their shoes on, especially if their shoes require a major amount of effort to apply in the first place. The trouble with eating lunch and listening to a bunch of speeches with your shoes on is that your feet get sweaty. When your feet get sweaty in pinchy shoes with heels that slip a little, these shoes become shoes with heels that slip a lot. They are still very pinchy though. Go figure.

Now my walking requires double the concentration and a way of stepping in which I put my shoe on the ground heel first and never bend my foot. I am sure it is very graceful. It is also excruciatingly slow. Another problem is that the plan after lunch is to hurry and get to the picture taking area first, so we don’t have to stand in line. That’s right: I said, HURRY. I can’t hurry. I can barely make it across the street without getting hit by a car. This snail pace is my top speed. No, making that waving motion with your arm is NOT going to help me walk any faster. Damn, what would Holly Golightly do?

Turns out Holly Golightly would painfully walk around, take the damn picture, readjust the gel pads in the shoes in the bathroom, then somehow stumble back to the van and take off the shoes from hell. The only reason I even had to channel Holly Golightly in the first place because of those damn shoes. I wore my back up shoes for the rest of the trip. I did carry around one of the tall heels in case of zombie attack. You can never be too careful.

The main take away from all of this is: if you get invited to a Rick Perry luncheon, there are a few things you will need to take care of in advance. First, make sure Rick Perry will actually be at the luncheon. Second, make sure you have shoes that fit. Accomplish those two things and you will be fine. You can also make up some sort of excuse where you don’t have to go. That might be preferable.

Oh… and be sure you take this t-shirt:

Because you never know when you might run into an asshat.

The Rick Perry Luncheon Part Two: Walking to the Van

If you are only reading this for the Rick Perry part of the story, this isn’t it. See how I told you upfront to save you the time and disappointment?

My co-workers arrive one by one. I realize that they too look very different in their dress-up clothes. Now we can look like instant grown-ups together. We are all joking about jackets that are too big or almost too small and I explain my impossible shoes. We all have a good laugh.

The driver of the van arrives and we begin the walk. My walk is fairly stable as long as I concentrate and take tiny steps. Once you get the rhythm down, it isn’t too bad. I am about halfway to the van when I suddenly realize I have left my bottle of water and cereal bar by the chair I was sitting in. Ordinarily, I would just run back in and get the items, but with these shoes I will never make it. These shoes are putting me at a huge disadvantage even BEFORE the zombie attack. I’m already falling behind all the other people walking to the van. There is no way I can make it to the lobby and back in a reasonable amount of time. The prospect of a three-hour drive without my bottle of water and cereal bar is dismal. Panic sets in. Quick, what would Holly Golightly do?!?

“Oh, no!” I declare, and stop walking.

“What is it?” asks one of my male co-workers who comes rushing to my side.

“I left my cereal bar and bottle of water next to the chair in the lobby.” I tell him. I’m watching people get into the van. This moment is critical. If I am getting that cereal bar it is now or never.

“I’ll save you!” The man says in a deep voice. Then, he turns around and is suddenly wearing a bright red cape. He dashes into the building and comes out triumphantly, water bottle and cereal bar in hand.

“My hero.” I tell him in a breathy voice.

Then, I make him walk next to me until we get to the van so it won’t look like I am the one walking slow. I also tell him to take off the cape because it looks stupid.

I think to myself, “If I had a ukulele right now, I would sing Moon River until all of your ears bleed.”

Then, I get into the van. In the struggle of navigating to the back of the van in my very tall shoes, the cereal bar slips onto the seat. I watch it slide down into an impossible crevice just as everyone belts in and the trip is underway. Damn.

A diagram of my cereal bar dilemma. Items may not be to scale.

Check back soon for the final installment of the Rick Perry Luncheon: The Rick Perry Luncheon.