In view of the trip to York to attend the Jorvik Viking Festival with Ed, I thought I would buy a comfortable new pair of trainers to walk about town. As soon as I entered Sports Direct, I found a very convenient deal on this pair of white Everlast trainers – 50% off. Great! Fit well, look good – I handed over £25 without hesitation.
Upon arrival in York, we made our way downtown, which gave me the opportunity to test the performance of my new shoes. Also, they were really cool and looked damn stylish under my black pants. You know, when you believe you’ve found the right match, you feel so a la mode that you start hitting the street like a badass. And that was exactly what I did.
In the evening, we started exploring the nightlife moving from a bar to another, drinking our way into the night and checking the local fauna. Yes, girls.
Two well-dressed chicks approached us for scrounging a smoke and suggested that we should join them in this exclusive club called The Biltmore. After they gave me a few compliments, comparing my appearance to a someone I don’t know who the hell it is (the York accent sounds like cavemen’s) and Ed was addressed as Tommy Shelby from the show Peaky Blinders (do watch it if you haven’t) and was asked to put on his Birmingham accent over and over again, we decided to go check out this place.
On the spot, we started peeking at the inside from the opposite sidewalk to make certain that there was something good going on in there. Yes, once again, girls.
We both felt very cool: Ed with his newly acquired popularity, me with my great outfit. So, I mean, we bowled up to the entrance like we owned the place.
Unfortunately, the bouncer stopped us immediately: “Sorry, white trainers are not allowed in here.”
What?! This is the most stupid rule I’ve ever heard!
Ed wasn’t too bothered, well, not as much as I fucking was. He made a smirky laugh and suggested that we’d go to Valhalla, a typical Viking bar just a few streets away. We made acquaintances with these two amusing ladies, one in her late forties, the other in her mid-thirties; the former being completely plastered! *Between her slurred attempts at flirting through an acrid, bitter breath, I suddenly noticed that her glass was swaying uncomfortably in my direction. Before I knew it, my prized new trainers became stained with the memory of her:* she poured a whole pint of stout over my freaking new shoes that quickly absorbed the liquid and turned into a light brown tone. The shining white was totally gone. Fucking bitch!
*[Ed wrote this bit himself. I mean, he’s co-starring in the story, so I have to give him some credit. :D]
There. Since my trainers were no longer white, it was worth taking another shot back at the club. FYI, we didn’t get any closer.
The truth is, appearances always matter. Whether you’re smart, deep, interesting, trustworthy people, or just wanna spend a great weekend with your bud, the way you speak, the words you use, the way you act, the way you move, the clothes you wear, will always come first. So if you wish to be accepted among people – people who “matter” – just erase what you’ve always believed in, re-build your personality or whoever you’ve been all along, wear some glossy outfit, be a yes-man, and you’ll get everywhere. In one sentence: follow the rule.
And remember: don’t wear fucking white trainers!