Today my Roncker DNA forced me to acknowledge that my Converse are not working out. I'm walking too many miles on hard German pavement and the Converse footbed is no good if you're not a sedentary hipster.
I haven't found any good insoles - well, I haven't looked but none have flung themselves out of the store and under my feet - so I was basically forced to go out and buy more shoes. Either the universe was telling me to go shoe shopping or I just like to manipulate the universe but either way I now own BASKETBALL SNEAKERS.
This morning me and my blisters limped down to the fashion street in Mitte and I hooked myself up with the cushiest shoes I could find. They just happened to be made for basketball but I'm thinking they're perfect because
a) The extra ankle support may come in handy during the four-square championship tournament that me, Jocardo, and the librarian are going to have when we're all back in Kentucky
b) They may increase the chances that someone challenges me to a breakdancing duel.