A couple of years ago, I was walking up Central Park West in my uniform and flats that were the slightest bit too big. I came across a group of teenage boys, about my age, treading slowly up the avenue, weighed down by their sports equipment. After the inevitable awkward eye contact, my shoe flew off and wound up directly in the middle of the crowd. I stood alone wearing only one shoe as I watched it make its way through the boys’ feet, praying they wouldn’t notice and that I could casually slip it back on once they passed. This did not happen. One of them looked down, confused, and then looked around until he found the source of his discovery. “You lost your shoe,” he said, trying to cover up a smile. I am surprised I had enough dignity left in me to respond with a simple “I know.”