You Need the 440s

Last month when I was in Japan, a guy I was traveling with told me about the implants he got for his shin splints.  He’d seen me limping.  “Game changer.  I was hopeless before I got them.”  I too would like my game-changed.  I’ve been meaning to make the time to get these things and there is a place in Beijing I was referred to but it was apparently $600.00 for the pair and took weeks while they prepared these implants.  And so, I put it off. 

My mom mentioned that there was a Dr. Scholl's machine at the local Walmart that would measure your feet on the spot and present you custom insoles for a fraction of the cost.   That sounded too good to be true, so last night, after a lovely chef’s tasting at Locust Grove, the Samuel Morse estate down the road from home, (you know, “dianbao” I said to my brother, suggesting tapping in a Morse code fashion) we went down to the Walmart in Fishkill, that I never knew existed. 

It’s huge, of course.  I remembered the Walmart business school case in which Sam Walton and his executives shun the fancy hotel on his visit to New York in their early days.  Frugal.  This warehouse certainly evokes: folks.  The machine I'm looking for is there not far from the entrance, and I kick off my shoes and hop right on the thing like someone expecting a miracle cure.  I suppose I was skeptical but the machine asks me to step forward on one foot and adjusts its heat map. Then it repeats for the other and it recommends a pair, just for me, which . . . they don’t have in stock.  I repeat the process and fortunately, I suppose, it repeats the same diagnosis.  You need the 440s.  They don’t have the 440s.  The lady behind the pharmacy window suggests that they are only replenished when the Dr. Scholl's people pay a visit.  I take the 430s and figure I’ll give them a try instead.

My daughter wants a PS4 game for Christmas, which I couldn’t find in Beijing.  This even though I hinted that a pirated copy would be OK, they couldn’t help me in Zhongguancun. There’s a tall, handsome young African American kid with a hoodie pushing a cart with a child.  A heavy set white woman is by his side and they are considering the games as well.  I spy Overwatch, the one I’m looking for, but it’s all locked up so I wander around trying to find a person who can help me.  A young man of Indian descent is quite kind and drops what he’s doing to come and open the counter for me.  I ask him what’s hot beyond Overwatch.  “Do you like killing people?  These are all killing people games.”  "I see.  Is there one you like?"  “I don’t play them.  I don’t like killing people games.”  "Sure.  I can understand.”  I pick one up that has a pyramid on the cover, imagining that it might be better to kill people in history if one has to go out and spray random strangers.  The tall gent tells me that the pyramid game is a cool game.  Done. I’ve got my daughter two games and two for my nephew as well. 

Thursday, 12/14/17