Delayed. After all that, the train was delayed.
Sidney struggled to catch her breath. She had run the last few blocks, determined not to miss the 11:35 train. Sidney wasn't much of a runner to begin with, and the combination of three-inch pumps, an overnight bag, and a briefcase had not improved her overall time any. Delayed. What else could go wrong today?
For years, Sidney had dreamed of a career in advertising, and now, just a few months after graduating from University of Iowa, she had landed an interview with Leo Burnett in their Chicago office. She had hardly slept at all last night thinking about her big day today, but it had started out very poorly and was not improving much.
This morning, Sidney had dressed in her only business suit, a dark blue jacket with matching skirt that her father had bought her for graduation. Her white silk blouse gave her pale skin the appearance of some color, and her shoulder length auburn hair was pulled back neatly in a navy blue bow. She had intended to wear tan pantyhose and black pumps with a medium-height chunky heel, but Aunt Mary would have none of it.
Aunt Mary was a bit of an eccentric, and was not actually her aunt at all, but a friend of the family. Sidney's father was a widower, and because she was also Sidney's godmother, Aunt Mary had been there for every big day since first communion, and this day was no exception.
"You simply cannot go to the city in those dreadful shoes," Aunt Mary said, with a dramatic flair. She had been an actress in St. Louis years ago, and tended to punctuate her proclamations with wild sweeping gestures. Aunt Mary headed across the street to her house and returned with a new pair of white stockings and a pair of two-tone navy and white spectator pumps. Sidney thought shoes were cool, in a retro sort of way, but a little higher heel than she would normally wear. The stockings were absolutely out of the question. Aunt Mary was insistent though, and after considerable argument and indecision, she agreed to at least try the stockings on. To her surprise, she found that the worst thing about them was Aunt Mary scolding her for not wearing a slip when she had trouble adjusting the garter. In the end, she deferred to her aunt's impeccable, if somewhat outdated fashion sense. She wore the stockings and the shoes, although they were a half size too big, which had further complicated things.
She kissed Aunt Mary and collected her bags, heading for the car. It was the first heavy frost of the year, and after scraping the windows, she discovered that her '81 Olds Cutlass refused to start this morning. Her father had left for work hours ago, and since Burlington Iowa didn't have much of a public transportation system, she decided to walk the eleven blocks to the station. She had already covered six blocks before noticing that she had neglected to wear a watch today, and had run most of the remaining distance not knowing the time, and worrying that she might miss the train.
A block from the station, she had walked right out of her shoe in the crosswalk and had nearly been run down by a cement truck trying to retrieve it. At the last second, she had jumped to safety and stood there with her stocking clad toes perched on the yellow painted curb, watching helplessly as her navy blue and white spectator pump disappeared beneath the giant truck. Her heart stopped momentarily, but luck was with her, and the shoe emerged undamaged, narrowly missed by the giant wheels. She felt herself blushing as she darted into the crosswalk, dipped her toes into the shoe, and shuffled to the curb before another vehicle got a chance to ruin her big day. Several amused pedestrians watched the whole scene unfold, leaving her to wonder if the shoes weren't called "spectator pumps" for a reason.
And now the train was delayed.
Sidney walked up to the Amtrak counter noticing 11:24 on the wall clock behind the ticket agent. "Sidney Eller," she told the lady. "I had a reservation on the 11:35 to Chicago Union Station."
"It's delayed," the ticket agent said. "Departure time is rescheduled for 12:01 on track 2."
Sidney wondered why a train could arrive a half hour late, but had to leave at exactly 12:01, not 12, or five after, or 11:59, 12:01 exactly. "Do you have the new arrival time for Chicago?" she asked.
"It was scheduled in at 3:55, but the new arrival time is shown as 4:34," the agent said, without looking up.
Sidney walked toward the gate. She was going to be late. Her job interview was at 4:30, and she was supposed to have dinner and meet several people from the creative team. Sidney looked at her wrist, and again finding no watch, searched the station for a clock. 11:31. She had plenty of time, but she felt anxious for some reason. She located the pay phones, but all of them were in use. She looked at her wrist again nervously as she waited. After several minutes, she exited through the front entrance and located a solitary payphone on the wall of the station.
She fumbled through her purse for the number of the Leo Burnett Agency, and punched it into the keypad along with her calling card number.
"Leo Burnett Agency," a voice said.
"Mr. Charning, please," she said, trying to sound business like.
"Mr. Charning's office," a new voice said, and after a brief exchange, explained that Vince Charning was on a conference call, but should be free in a few minutes.
Sidney listened to the music while on hold, looking at her wrist and wishing she had remembered her watch. Her feet were killing her from the walk to the station and she pulled her foot from the shoe, flexing her toes and ankles, and then alternating to the other foot. She fished the shoe from the sidewalk with the tips of her toes and extended her leg in front of her, examining the shoe as it hung vertically. She set the shoe on the sidewalk with her toes and flexed her ankle as she pulled the stocking up and adjusted the toe seam. She quickly slid her foot into the shoe again as a man approached. "Do you have the time sir?" she asked as the man walked by, glancing at her legs.
"Quarter to twelve."
She was getting nervous. She leaned against the building impatiently, periodically pacing back and forth as far as the short phone cord would allow, while Barry Manilow irritated her from 150 miles away. She released her heel from the back of the shoe again and enjoyed the feeling of the cool air against the arch of her foot. She replaced the shoe on her foot and leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry, Mr. Charning is still tied up, but he knows you are holding," the voice broke in.
"My name is Sidn...," she suddenly lost her balance and dropped the phone receiver, along with her bags. She had stepped onto a metal grate between the building and the sidewalk, wedging her heel between the iron vents. She grabbed the receiver again regaining her balance. "Hello!? Hello!? Oh I'm sorry, I dropped the phone. My name is Sidney Eller," she began again, "and I have an appointment with Mr. Charning at 4:30, and my train has been delayed."
"Hi Sidney, I'm Traci, and we're all expecting you. What time do think you will arrive?"
"I'll be arriving at Union Station at 4:35 from Iowa," she said, struggling to free her shoe from the grate. "How far is it to your office from the station?" she asked, and barely able to hold the phone to her ear as she bent over in an unsuccessful attempt to pull the shoe out with her free hand.
"It's about a ten minute cab ride," Traci told her.
Sidney pushed her stockinged foot hard against the cold sidewalk next to the empty shoe, gripping it tightly and pulling at it desperately. "Do you have the time Traci?" she asked, suddenly panicked.
"Five 'til," Traci said.
"I have to go!" she said. "I look forward to meeting you." She hung up the phone and set her bags down, grasping the shoe with both hands and pulling as hard as she possibly could. The shoe just would not come loose. Sidney searched the sidewalk for any possible source of help, but there was no one else around. A man who was stopped at traffic light appeared to be staring at her feet. She thought about asking him for help, but the light turned green and he drove off. She grabbed her bags and ran into the station, losing her remaining shoe in the door. She picked up the shoe and raced across the station in her stockinged feet, finding a maintenance man near the gates. "Please! Can you help me?"
The man looked alarmed and hurried to follow her as she padded out onto the sidewalk. When he realized the exact nature of her emergency, he didn't laugh but she new he wanted to. The sidewalk was cold, and she placed the shoe she held in her hand back onto her foot, balancing while she watched the man attempt to free the other shoe. He grasped the shoe with both hands and pulled mightily. She was ecstatic when she saw him raise the shoe, but her heart sank when she saw that the grate was still attached to the heel. It was a thick piece of cast iron six inches wide and several feet long. Her face went pale. "I'm going to miss my train," she said dejectedly. "It leaves in about three minutes.
"Follow me," he said, walking briskly into the station. Her heel tapped out an uneven rhythm on the floor as he led her to a door next to track 1. It was marked "NO ADMITTANCE" and he told her to wait, disappearing through the door and heading to the basement.
Sidney looked down at her stocking clad toes against the polished floor. She wanted this job she told herself. She had to make that train, even if it was in her stockinged feet. She examined her toes again and imagined herself among millions of strangers without her shoes, instantly recoiling at the thought. She looked at her bare wrist again before locating a wall clock. Just as her eyes found the clock, the hands struck 12:00. Sidney Eller had a problem. She pulled on the door handle but it was locked, the man had used a key to open it. She pounded on the door, but there was no response. She ran over to track 2 to make sure the train hadn't left yet. It was still there, but the conductor was getting on at the last door, and the platform was already empty. She took one last hopeful look toward the maintenance door, and ran for the train. She stopped dead at the last car, paralyzed with indecision. Her remaining shoe was planted solidly on the platform, but her stocking clad foot was on the first step to the train car. She scanned the station desperately for some sign of the maintenance man and her missing shoe. She stepped up with her stockinged foot and her remaining shoe left the platform. Her heel came loose and the shoe dangled from her toes as she leaned out of the doorway. The engine started to roar and her solitary shoe fell to the platform, leaving her standing in the doorway in her stockinged feet. Her resolve was failing and the train still was not moving. She decided to get off the train. She had to be rational. How could she go to all the way to Chicago in her stockinged feet, let alone to a job interview? Her stocking feet stepped onto the cold concrete platform and she worked her foot back into the solitary shoe. She took a step toward the station but stopped, balancing there with her stockinged foot hanging mid-stride. She really wanted this job, and maybe she could find a shoe store when she got off the train. She turned and touched the rubber tread with her toes, pausing before climbing up again, hanging out of the doorway and searching for any sign of help.
It was crazy she told herself, and she was just about to step off the train again when the door started to close. The shoe slipped from her heel again and dangled from the very tip of her toe, defying gravity for an instant. She flipped it back onto her toes and pulled it in through the closing door just as the train started to roll. Her heart pounded and she felt panic as she pressed her palms against the glass of the doors. She fought back a tear as she watched the maintenance man wandering onto the platform holding her empty shoe in his hand. She waved to him, and he ran a few steps toward her before realizing it was too late. He watched the train clear the end of the platform, shrugging his shoulders and holding the empty shoe up in the air. Her heart was pounding and for a long time, she just stared blankly out the winow. She felt unsteady as she turned and stepped up and into the cabin. She made her way down the aisle, turning sideways and picking her way between the seats with her white satin toes shuffling ahead of her two-tone shoe.
Sidney found a seat in the second car, and set her bags down next to the window. The train was crossing over the Mississippi River now, and it occurred to her that she had never been east of the Mississippi in her life. Actually, she had never been outside of Iowa except to visit her Grandma in Nebraska. She watched the last of the water go by and tried to figure out what to do next. She could just get off at the next stop, and try to find a way home. She could wander through small town Illinois in her stockinged feet just as well as the big city. The conductor came by and looked at Sidney, glancing down at her exposed toes, but continued past. If she got off at the next station, she could call her dad, but that seemed childish, and she was an adult after all.
Sidney looked at her stockinged foot again. Her toes were wide and not very long, but not too bad she thought. She had painted her nails a deep red to match her fingernails. The white stocking was a little bit worn at the heel from all of her scrambling around, but had held up very well. She knew the pantyhose she had planned to wear would have been ruined by now.
Maybe she could just go barefoot, she thought. She had never really gone barefoot, but she had seen girls at college do it. She looked around, unhooked the garter and rolled the stocking down, removing it and balling it up in her hand. Her foot seemed even more exposed, naked somehow, and she quickly rolled the silken fabric over her toes again, reattaching the garters when she was sure no one was watching. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. So what's the worst that could happen? She didn't really have an answer. The rocking of the train caused her to dose off for several hours, and she awoke with a start, after dreaming that she was locked out of her house, trapped on the front porch in her underwear. She shuddered, and immediately looked at her stockinged foot feeling the apprehension return.
An attractive dark haired woman sat down in the seat across the aisle. She looked at the stocking clad toes across the aisle, and then at Sidney. "Going to Chicago?" the woman asked.
"Not sure yet," Sidney snapped. She looked at the woman and regretted her tone. Softening somewhat, she said, "I lost my shoe at the station, and I'm on my way to a job interview, and I really don't know what I'm going to do." She felt the tears welling up again.
"The exact same thing happened to me once," the woman told her. "I was working at a client's office and my shoe slipped off and got locked in a file cabinet. I was so embarrassed, I thought I was going to die. After that, I had to ride the train downtown with one shoe and meet an important client for dinner."
"What did you do?" Sidney asked, looking desperate for an answer at this point.
"First I got really upset," said the woman, "and then angry, and then finally, I just went about my business. I couldn't contact the client to cancel, so just showed up for the meeting minus a shoe."
"What did the client say," Sidney asked, eyes wide in anticipation.
"Nothing. That's the funny thing. He didn't say anything and neither did I," the woman said. "I don't know what I was expecting to happen, but nothing did. Later on, my boss asked me about it, and I told him my shoe fell off as I was getting on the train. He didn't do anything either."
"What a weird coincidence, running into someone with the same experience," Sidney said.
The woman just smiled. "I saw you through the window when you were deciding whether to get on board. I thought you might want to talk to someone to pass the time."
And they did pass the time, talking about lots of different things, until Sidney realized there were tall buildings out the window. She felt a sense of dread returning to her. "There must be a shoe store I could go to," she said, sounding agitated.
"Over on State street," the woman replied.
Sidney knew she would not have time to go shopping if she was going to make it to her appointment. She was growing more agitated by the minute. "I've never even used a taxi!" she blurted out, " and now I have to go look for one in my stockinged feet."
"At Union Station, the cabs drive in under the building. You don't even have to go outside," the woman said, and added, " We could share a cab if you like."
Sidney brightened some, was still very nervous. When the train got to the station, Sidney waited until everyone was off the train before standing up. She gathered her bags and followed the woman out of the car, until she found herself standing with her stockinged foot on the very step she had deliberated over hours before. Thousands of people bustled up and down the platforms. "You go on ahead," Sidney said, "I think I'll wait for some of the traffic to clear." She seemed to shrink back from the door again.
"The woman looked up at her and smiled warmly. "You promised to share a cab with me," she said, and stepped out of her left shoe. She picked up the shoe and tucked it in the pocket of her raincoat, turning away from Sidney and heading down toward the station. Sidney hurried after her.
"What are you doing?" Sidney asked in a shrill voice. "Why did you take off your shoe!?"
"The cabstand is over here to the left," the woman said, ignoring her question. The two women walked side by side, each with only one shoe, striding across the station lobby in unison.
The taxi stopped in front of a five hundred foot tall building at 35 West Wacker. Sidney said goodbye to her new friend, clutched her business card in her hand, and got out of the cab, treading purposefully across the granite pavers. Several people stared openly at her white stocking clad foot as she crossed the lobby. Don't say anything about it, she reminded herself. The elevator stopped at her floor and she stepped boldly into the reception area of Leo Burnett, where she met the piercing gaze of a tall, handsome man with movie star looks. Her self-confidence wavered.
"Vince Charning," the man said, extending his hand.
"Sidney Eller," she said, gripping his hand.
"What's with the footwear Sidney?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye.
Sidney was flustered, and she couldn't think of anything to say.
"Really, where's your other shoe?" he asked, seeming delighted.
"I left it in Iowa."
"Fantastic!" he said, laughing aloud. "Fantastic!"
For some unexplained reason, she was laughing with him, and all of the tension had gone out of her.
An older man walked through the reception area. "Phil!" said Vince. "Check this out. I want you to meet our newest assistant art director. She's brilliant. This woman has traveled all the way from Iowa wearing only one shoe, just to create a visual effect." He pulled a digital camera from his pocket and shot a few frames.
The three of them stared at her white stockinged foot against the black granite flooring. Phil was clearly confused and Sidney wasn't tracking things much better.
"Come on Phil," Vince said, and grabbed her hand in an exaggerated handshake. "Get it? She has one shoe like in the fairy tale." He continued to hold her hand as he gestured with his free hand toward Sidney and himself. "Come on Phil. You know, the fairy tale thing, Sidney Eller meets Vince Charning."
"Sure, I get it," Phil said, smiling weakly. After twenty five years in the business, he found that he understood less and less of what young people found amusing. "Nice to meet you Sidney, welcome aboard." He headed toward the elevator.
"Phil is our division head," Vince told her. He stared at her exposed stockinged foot again. "Brilliant," he said, "very creative. Like some kind of performance art or something. Let's go meet the rest of the team you'll be working with..."
Snowman
