I walked by Danny Devito and I think my shoes ruined his day.
This is an open apology letter.
I’m sorry Danny.
Dear Danny, I mean, Mr. Devito, Sir.,
When I left the room I was renting on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on that fateful Saturday morning I did not expect to see you. I mean first of all, when is anyone expecting to walk by Danny Devito, and secondly, when is someone expecting to walk by Danny Devito at 8am. On a Saturday. Also, you live in Beverly Hills. So why the fuck weren’t you living where the internet said you live? Not that I google where you live a lot. Sorry.
I’ll admit it. I was wearing sneakers that were see-through and I was wearing neon socks because I was trying to capitalize on the fact that my shoes were see-through. I was trying to be bold. Jesus christ can’t you be proud of a girl for taking risks? Anyways, maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe it’s because I’m three inches taller than you, but whatever the reason, you walked by, cast your gaze down at my shoes, and frowned. Not a brief, inconsequential frown, a large, I-just-saw-a-toddler-get-hit-by-a-car-god-that-was-horrible frown.
And I’m sorry. I am truly deeply sorry that my shoes distressed you so acutely. If I ever see you again I promise I’ll run up to you and give you a huge hug. And I promise if you frown at my hug I’ll write another letter.