OK, who is in the mood to hear a wacky story? One that has nothing – *absolutely nothing* – to do with current events?
I’ve been telling this story for more than a decade, and it makes me smile every time, and smiles have been in kind of short supply lately.
So here goes...
I’ve been telling this story for more than a decade, and it makes me smile every time, and smiles have been in kind of short supply lately.
So here goes...
It's August 2008. The global financial crisis is getting underway. I'm a @WSJ banking reporter in NY. My colleague @damianpaletta and I got a tip about some shenanigans involving a bank that had recently collapsed in Arizona.
I was assigned to go there to see what I could find.
I was assigned to go there to see what I could find.
I arrived at @JFKairport in shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops. I had just splurged on a new pair of Reefs with great arch support and comfy straps. I was 29; this had been a kind of big purchase for me.
I breezed through JFK security. Didn't even have to remove my flip flops.
I breezed through JFK security. Didn't even have to remove my flip flops.
Arizona was *blazing* hot. But I figured I should look somewhat professional as I went out to interview people. I hoped to talk to some naughty bankers and didn't want them to be able to attack me as a slob.
I put on pants and shoes. I left my flip flops in my hotel room.
I put on pants and shoes. I left my flip flops in my hotel room.
I spent three days sweating in Scottsdale. I didn't manage to find the bad bankers. It was time to return to NY.
I went to the airport in the same outfit I'd worn on the earlier flight. At security, everyone had to remove shoes. I put my flip flops in a tray with my BlackBerry.
I went to the airport in the same outfit I'd worn on the earlier flight. At security, everyone had to remove shoes. I put my flip flops in a tray with my BlackBerry.
I walked through the metal detector. I waited for my tray to emerge from the X-ray machine.
When it did, a beefy security man took it for further inspection. I figured he needed to check my BlackBerry. No big deal.
Then he handed me my phone.
He kept my flip flops.
When it did, a beefy security man took it for further inspection. I figured he needed to check my BlackBerry. No big deal.
Then he handed me my phone.
He kept my flip flops.
The man was wearing blue latex gloves. He picked up one of my flip flops, peered at it, then called over a colleague. They stared at my Reefs.
It was...a flip flop. What could they possibly be looking at?
"We think there's something in there," the beefy guy told me.
It was...a flip flop. What could they possibly be looking at?
"We think there's something in there," the beefy guy told me.
I responded: "What are you talking about?"
There was a seam on the flip flop's heel. The man sunk his meaty fingers in. He began trying to pry it open.
I was getting angry. "What are you doing, man?" I demanded. "You're going to destroy it!"
He kept pulling. I heard a rip.
There was a seam on the flip flop's heel. The man sunk his meaty fingers in. He began trying to pry it open.
I was getting angry. "What are you doing, man?" I demanded. "You're going to destroy it!"
He kept pulling. I heard a rip.
I watched – speechless with fury – as the security man tore my flip flop. With an awful fart-like noise, it peeled in half.
In my head, I began drafting an irate letter to @DHSgov about the violent destruction of my precious flip flop. Someone would pay for this abuse of power!
In my head, I began drafting an irate letter to @DHSgov about the violent destruction of my precious flip flop. Someone would pay for this abuse of power!
The two security men continued to examine the innards of my filleted flip flop.
They summoned a third man, apparently a supervisor, to take a look as well. They conferred briefly. Then the second man walked away.
Moments later, he returned. He was holding a pair of tweezers.
They summoned a third man, apparently a supervisor, to take a look as well. They conferred briefly. Then the second man walked away.
Moments later, he returned. He was holding a pair of tweezers.
My anger morphed into confusion – then, slowly, anxiety. What was going on?
The man with the tweezers rooted around the belly of my flip flop, like he was trying to extract a splinter from a child's foot.
He gave the tweezers a sudden tug. The three men scrunched their faces.
The man with the tweezers rooted around the belly of my flip flop, like he was trying to extract a splinter from a child's foot.
He gave the tweezers a sudden tug. The three men scrunched their faces.
The man held the tweezers aloft. He wasn't showing me, but I could see.
Clasped in the tweezer's prongs was a narrow, cylindrical, metallic-looking object. It was about 2 inches long. It had a sharp tip.
It looked like a large bullet. Or a small syringe. Or a vial of liquid.
Clasped in the tweezer's prongs was a narrow, cylindrical, metallic-looking object. It was about 2 inches long. It had a sharp tip.
It looked like a large bullet. Or a small syringe. Or a vial of liquid.
I panicked.
My mind flew to the bankers I'd been hunting in Phoenix. I had left my flip flops unattended. One of their minions must have snuck into my hotel room and planted a weapon inside my flip flop.
Where else could this strange, menacing-looking thing have come from?
My mind flew to the bankers I'd been hunting in Phoenix. I had left my flip flops unattended. One of their minions must have snuck into my hotel room and planted a weapon inside my flip flop.
Where else could this strange, menacing-looking thing have come from?
I was in big trouble.
Homeland Security had just caught me trying to board a plane with ammunition or anthrax or something. There would be no talking my way out of this.
I had to flee.
I pictured myself running, bare fleet slapping linoleum floors, armed agents giving chase.
Homeland Security had just caught me trying to board a plane with ammunition or anthrax or something. There would be no talking my way out of this.
I had to flee.
I pictured myself running, bare fleet slapping linoleum floors, armed agents giving chase.
"Sir, what is this?" one of them asked me.
"I don't know," I stammered. I could tell they didn't believe me. I imagined being dragged to an interrogation room or jail.
More security agents arrived. Frowning, they huddled around the dissected flip flop and its hidden payload.
"I don't know," I stammered. I could tell they didn't believe me. I imagined being dragged to an interrogation room or jail.
More security agents arrived. Frowning, they huddled around the dissected flip flop and its hidden payload.
My heart was racing. I began panic-sweating.
Then a strange thing happened. One of the security men smiled. He said something to his colleagues, left and came back with a small sheet of light-blue paper.
He took The Thing in his gloved hands. He touched it to the paper.
Then a strange thing happened. One of the security men smiled. He said something to his colleagues, left and came back with a small sheet of light-blue paper.
He took The Thing in his gloved hands. He touched it to the paper.
I was pretty sure I saw a couple of the security agents roll their eyes. The first one – the big guy who had ripped my flip flop in two – approached me.
"It's a pen," he said.
"Huh?" I said.
He showed me: His colleague had scribbled in black ballpoint ink on the blue paper.
"It's a pen," he said.
"Huh?" I said.
He showed me: His colleague had scribbled in black ballpoint ink on the blue paper.
Relief washed over me. I wasn't being framed for trying to sneak a weapon onto a plane! I felt faint. I kind of wanted to cry.
The agent said he was confiscating my flip-flop pen. "Fine," I said.
I smushed my flip flop back together, collected my bags and walked to my gate.
The agent said he was confiscating my flip-flop pen. "Fine," I said.
I smushed my flip flop back together, collected my bags and walked to my gate.
What had just happened?
At the gate, I reopened my @reef84 flip flop. Inside was velcro (hence that fart-like ripping noise) and a cavity in the rubber where the tiny pen had resided.
It was a design feature – one that I somehow hadn't noticed when I bought the flip flops.
At the gate, I reopened my @reef84 flip flop. Inside was velcro (hence that fart-like ripping noise) and a cavity in the rubber where the tiny pen had resided.
It was a design feature – one that I somehow hadn't noticed when I bought the flip flops.
On the flight back to New York, it occurred to me that days earlier I'd cruised through JFK security with a sharp, metal, bullet-like object embedded in my flip flop. Nobody had noticed. Not good!
Also: Why had @reef84 decided it would be a smart idea to put pens in flip flops?
Also: Why had @reef84 decided it would be a smart idea to put pens in flip flops?
I did some research. It turned out it wasn’t just pens. @reef84 had a line of “Stash” footwear featuring secret compartments.
There was a flip flop with space for a house key. Another had a bottle opener. One had a small flask for those who dream of drinking from their shoes.
There was a flip flop with space for a house key. Another had a bottle opener. One had a small flask for those who dream of drinking from their shoes.
In October 2008, @damianpaletta and I wrote this story about the Arizona bank shenanigans: wsj.com/articles/SB122…
One scorching day the next summer, I wore my flip flops to work @WSJ. I changed into shoes. At some point during the day, the flip flops went missing from my desk.
One scorching day the next summer, I wore my flip flops to work @WSJ. I changed into shoes. At some point during the day, the flip flops went missing from my desk.
I either misplaced them or someone took them. Maybe it was a prank. Or maybe someone wanted a pair of flip flops with sturdy arch support and comfortable straps.
If so, I wondered, did they realize the flip flops were the perfect place to hide a small, sharp pen?
THE END
If so, I wondered, did they realize the flip flops were the perfect place to hide a small, sharp pen?
THE END
I hope you enjoyed this story. If you want to read another dirtier one, here you go:
