I sat in the family van, carelessly sprawled across the passenger seat, listening to the radio while waiting for my mother to finish her Wal-Mart shopping trek. I glanced uninterestedly at the numerous customers strolling in and out of the store, hoping my mother was next. One girl caught my attention. I turned off the radio, rolled down the window, and watched in fascination as she stumbled across the parking lot, her bag-covered arms flailing in a desperate attempt to maintain her upright position. I looked down, trying to determine the source of her trouble. Ah-ha! Her feet, clad in bright red patent leather, were perched precariously on two alarmingly thin pieces of plastic, which appeared a disturbing four inches tall. No wonder she couldn't stand up. Tap, tap-tap, tap, clunk ' the unrhythmic sounds coming from the oddities strapped to her feet alerted me to the difficulty of the girl's seemingly easy task of crossing a parking lot. Walking through Wal-Mart wearing such health hazards seemed a feat in itself. By now she was half way across the lot. 'Hurray!' I mentally cheered her on.'Oh no, a pothole! Come on honey, you can do it!' Oops, she fell. With an embarrassed air, the girl hastily righted herself and gathered her scattered bags. I glanced once again to the brightly colored contraptions adorning her feet. They seemed to have come out of the ordeal unscathed. Impressive ' those popsicle stick-like things must be stronger than they look. The girl reached her car. As she unlocked the door, relief flooded her face. She did it! I silently commended her for her successful trip, and hoped next time she made a Wal-Mart shopping excursion, she would procure some appropriate footwear.