In the ICU waiting room at a major trauma center University hospital you see a lot of things. You see, for example, a world class mullet on a middle aged guy in a navy windbreaker, timberline boots and urban camouflage fleece pants. It was impressive. I commented to my brother that it is always nice to see someone visiting their sick loved ones in their “really nice” fuzzy pants. He remarked that he was pretty sure David Lee Roth had the same pants. Maybe in the Panama video?

If not, DLR wishes he had.

There is no better cross section of class struggle, though. Seriously. Get yourself to the ICU Waiting Room some day and you’ll see what I mean.

I was particularly entertained yesterday when a very dark skinned woman in unbelievably straining designer jeans came in. She was massive, in all respects. She was heavy, though not Orca fat (to borrow from The Usual Suspects) but checking out the best fat burners might not be a bad idea. The cornrowed beauty by her side looked like a minor meal for her Mama.

And massive – not to sound mean, but I cannot emphasize her all around hugeness enough chose a seat, from the dozen available, right next to a diminutive lady, frail and tired looking. She’d brought her lunch in a soft-sided lunchbox, a trick many of the old hats seemed to know. It’s a long day with lots of waiting – bring a book and bring your own food.

Anyway, for all my setup, the payoff may seem slim. Let me just say that the fleeting look of abject terror on the little old lady’s face – however short-lived – was just priceless.