Toastmasters and Feet

If Wade had a blog, he'd have some funny stories to share. But since he doesn't I'll have to share this one on his behalf.

Last night, Wade was driving home from his parents' house--where he was holed up because of I-80 being closed due to a cop-involved shooting following a high speed chase--when he discovered that I-80 was closed again because of a grassfire that had jumped the freeway.

He called me, at Toastmasters, to warn me about this turn of events and to advise me on taking a different route home. (Quickly running out of routes because the other one--201--was closed as well due to construction). (Did I mention that I had to drive the backway into Lehi to get to Salt Lake yesterday because I-80 was closed? Took an extra hour. So you can imagine how I was feeling about the new closure at 9:00 at night.)

In his cell phone, my cell phone is saved sans the area code. But now, in Salt Lake, you have to dial the area code for all numbers. So Wade punches in what he thinks to be 801-________. But instead of 801, he accidently typed in 800.

Then he hears the message. Classic 800-number message, only it's about FEET. A hotline for people who have foot fetishes (fetishi?). The very thought just grosses me out.

Of course, Wade, who was *ahem* driving at the time, can't figure out what this message is all about--especially when he looks at the display and it says "Sandra" (because the phone picked up that he had dialed part of my number). He will admit that for the briefest amount of time, he did wonder "Toastmasters, huh? Maybe that's not where she is after all."

Of course, like a bunch of 15 year olds, we both had to call back the 800 number and snicker. And admit it, there's a little part of you that's curious, isn't there?