Dude, Those Aren't Your Flip Flops

I'm going to tell you a little story. 

Once upon a time a long time ago, three girls lived in a big city in a high rise apartment.  It was a pretty typical apartment that you would find in any Southeast Asian city.  They lived there happily for a time.  There were no problems besides the occasional noisy neighbors yelling in foreign tongues and strange smells of spices cooking that reminded them that they were indeed in a far away land.

One day, the bathroom faucet decided it had had enough of this turn on and off to conserve water business.  The faucet starting pouring out water uncontrollably, normally cries for attention, but it would not stop crying no matter how much they tried to console it.  Being no plumbers, they frantically tried every knob and lever to try to make it stop.  It did not.  Soon it was overflowing over the sink and onto the bathroom floor. 

In this foreign land, they had no idea who to call.  Finally, they got a hold of the neighbors who gave them the number to the man who could solve all their woes or just the current one of death by drowning in their apartment.

Super Maintenance Man to the rescue...

Just have to wait for him to get out of mosque...

*jeopardy music playing*

He's here.  With a twist of a knob the faucet stopped running.  It was just right outside the door, where no one had noticed it being before.  The girls looked on with sheer delight, until they looked down at the little man's feet.

One girl realized that the flip flops he was wearing looked very similar to those that she herself owned.  Could it be?  Sure enough, it didn't take long to assess that those were in fact her flip flops on this man's feet.    He had tried them on and declared they fit just right.

So goes the tale of the leaky faucet and playing footsie sharing foot fungus erm, sharing shoes with a stranger.