A Glass Slipper

In the 21st century, Cinderella wouldn’t be waiting for her Prince Charming to bring her mythical shoe. She would be waiting in line, overnight, with a chair and a Coke at 808 Sutter Street instead, waiting for Thug Charma to get his Honda Accord with the big tailpipe parked after the street sweeper goes by.
Such has been the case for the last couple of days at a store called Huf on Sutter that seems to get some first run of the next Nikes that are coming out. Every so often, you’ll see a couple of people bring chairs and then a few more. All of the sudden, there will be this very long line of people snaking up the block, waiting for the store to open in the hopes they will get one of the few, the proud, the sweatshop manufactured, Nike shoe/dunk/kick that’s emerged from the boat. I’m so freakin’ unhip at this point I don’t even know if they make Jordans anymore. They probably do, since they made them a potload of money.
It makes me thing about all the times I camped out to wait for something that I wanted. it doesn’t take long for me to think about this, since I’ve only done it once when I showed up three hours early for a movie. I don’t even do that anymore. I figure anything good is going to be around for awhile and why pay top dollar or waste my time trying to be the first, when I can wait a week, month, or get it on ebay or Netflix. Good lord I’ve gotten lazy, soft, and patient in my old age…