It was on my solo walks on two mornings this week that I saw a pair of men’s sneakers in the same grassed area. Day three of said Olympic walk, I thought, “these must belong to someone and they must be missing them”. Being the rules-girl that I am, I thought that the right thing to do would be to photograph them and then retrieve them and post them on the Whanganui Area News Page on Facebook to get them to their rightful owner. I am a woman’s size eight shoe. These were definitely a man’s size shoe with a rather familiar odour. The shoes that belonged to both of my teenage brothers were ex-communicated from inside the family home. They could have killed a rampaging boar at a thousand paces. While these shoes were in good condition, I heard wild boars running for their lives when I picked them up.
So the Pollyanna in me is thinking I did the right thing. Boy, did I get that wrong.
The comments were immediate and in some cases cruel (the post has since been removed), and I was accused of being a thief by a large number of the membership. Admittedly, I do have a hole in my own shoes at present and need a new pair, but why I would want to wear smelly men’s shoes that looked to be a size 12 is beyond me. The die was cast and the guilt set in. Some people were so horrible that I decided to put the shoes back where I found them the next day. One woman said what I should have done at the time was to put them in a paper bag and take them to the police. Not sure about you, but when I’m walking on my own the only thing I walk with is intent and a bad knee. I don’t pack paper bags.
Shoe-gate had begun.
To be completely transparent, I gave stealing a go at 15. I was new to Whanganui and my new friend group did it regularly which, to be honest, I struggled with. Anyhoo, I thought that I’d give it a go. I went to the dairy on the way to school and attempted to steal a packet of PK chewing gum. I felt so guilty that I immediately turned around to go back to the store and pay for it. Too late. “I think you have something in your pocket,” said the owner. Long story short, the police took me home, my mother broke down in tears and I have never eaten PK chewing gum again. Telling the truth and doing the right thing is just part of my DNA. I would make a lousy criminal.
Being accused of stealing was a horrible feeling. I thought that I got this completely wrong. So, the next morning, I put the shoes in a plastic bag, put them back where I found them, photographed them and updated the post to say that due to rules-girl-guilt, they were back in situ. This was 8am. Wait – this gets better.
I then went on my walk through the park and over the city bridge (sans dog) and then turned around at my halfway point to end up back in the middle of the park. Lo-and-behold on my way back, a gentleman on a bike rode towards me with a jaunty little plastic bag on his handlebars that contained the shoes. It took less than 40 minutes. Clearly, the rightful owner now had them. Dream result for all of the people who accused me of stealing. What a relief.
This gentleman was already wearing shoes but, since they clearly were his to pick up, my hope is that at the next Olympic Games we see him winning the marathon in his Kowhai Park Kickers.
