Ybor's Got Sole

      

          It was a Friday night on Ybor City’s famed 7^th Avenue, and I could barely set one foot in front of the other without stomping on the back of a club goer’s stiletto heels.  Crowds decked out in barely there spandex dresses and diamond encrusted Ed Hardy t shirts poured into clubs like Prana and Empire.  Semi bored, semi drunk twenty-somethings lit up Parliaments, and shuffled slowly in a huge line nearly at a standstill outside of Club Honeypot.   I could almost smell the cheap liquor and Axe body spray in the air.  A group of drunken sorority girls decked in matching “finally 21!” shirts cackled as they entered Habib Hookah lounge.  Smoke and incense poured into the air.  My friend Drew and I were en route to Coyote Ugly, a bar known for cheap shots and dancing girls. Always a good place to start the night.  We held hands as we maneuvered through the crowd.  

      I spotted a young man, probably around 25 years old and dressed in a concert t shirt and jeans headed toward us. I couldn’t tell from what direction he had come; all I noticed was the huge smile on his face.  He greeted us like he was greeting old friends he hadn’t seen in years.  “Guys! How’s your night goin ?!,” he exclaimed.  Drew and I were both polite, yet confused as to how we knew the guy.  

      

       The unnamed man glanced up and down Drew’s body stopping at his feet.  I laughed at the nervous look on my friend’s face, not familiar with being ogled.  “Hey man,” said the stranger, “what kinda shoes are those? They’re nice.”   Drew, confused even further because he was simply wearing old sneakers replied, “um, just Nikes.”    Quicker than I’d ever seen anyone move before, the man dropped to his knees, balanced his weight on his palms, and lifted one of Drew’s Nikes.  The man stuck his tongue out, and slowly, almost sensually licked the entire length of the bottom of the shoe as if it were an ice cream cone on a sweltering summer day.  Never before had I seen a 250 pound man look as terrified as my friend did.  Shocked, I looked down at the strange man’s glistening, spit smeared smile.  He looked satisfied, but seemed to be debating going for seconds on that Nike, but instead bolted up, and speed walked away from us, off to shock some more Ybor City patrons.  My friend had been yet another victim of The Tampa Bay Shoe Licker.

 

       Little is known of The Tampa Bay Shoe Licker.  He operates a facebook page, and goes by "Jamie."  There's a very good chance that he lives in Ybor City, because I've seen him there nearly every time I've visited Ybor.  When I ran into Jamie at Gaspar's Grotto recently, he explained that he enjoys licking men's shoes because "it's a submissive thing."  My friends and I argued over whether or not it's okay to enable Jamie by laughing and being a part of his shoe fetish.  Some said it was simply funny, and there was no reason to feel guilty because Jamie was enjoying himself.  Others felt unsure of supporting an unhealthy habit that possibly came about due to some form of mental illness.  Jamie is a tough guy to figure out, and his fetish is a very tough thing to comprehend.  But one thing's for sure .  He will make your trip to Ybor City impossible to forget.