Hmmm

Just got back from a quick jaunt to the bank (you'll never get another penny of mine, Chevy Chase Bank! Mwa ha haaaa! I'm a PNC gal now) and I ran into a mysterious character on the street. I noticed this guy painfully shuffling across 18th Street, using his walker to propel himself forward. His progress was impeded by the fact that one foot was firmly wrapped up in a cast.

"Poor guy," I thought.

Then I looked more carefully. His hands were covered with a white chalky substance, which I marked up to maybe making it easier to use the walker. You know, like gymnasts on parallel bars? I dunno. He crept a little closer to me, and I realized that hanging off one arm was a thin plastic bag through which I could see a container of plaster of paris.

Intrigued, I gave up all pretenses of social niceties and stopped to take a good look at him. His foot's cast wasn't the nice smooth kind that you get from a doctor, but instead was all lumpy and misshapen, much like those arts and crafts mobiles you make in the third grade.

I'm wondering if he made his own cast and then decided to walk the streets with it? Was he another uninsured American who had to make do on his own, outside the medical community? In which case, why would he buy plaster of paris, make a cast, and then go home? Or maybe he made an initial cast, ran out of supplies, and went out for more? Or possibly he's a performance artist recording how indifferent Washingtonians are to other people's plights. I'm trying to find a logical explanation for what had to be an uncomfortable endeavor - the poor guy was all out of breath and whatever it was, it could not have been much fun. Color me perplexed.