Saturday, May 13, 2006

Observations during my travel odessey....

gawwwl-DAMN this here is The Nation of the Fat People.

Holy frickin' cripes, people. As I wander through the airports on my planes, trains, and automobiles whirlwind tour of the east coast, I am shocked, nay, dare I say nonplussed at the amazing volume of FAT wrapped 'round the bones of we Americans.

Young, old, more old than young, but still. Men, women, kids. Just friggin' OBESE! I mean, I'm not talking a little pudge or a bit o' the old love handles. I'm talkin' folks lugging around 60-80 extra pounds, easy. And it's not just onesey-twosey. It's beyond even a trend. More like an epidemic. I guess coming from Japan where there just ain't that many fat people, it's like culture shock to walk around and see all the basketballs being smuggled under oversize t-shirts.

And holy effin' moses, how people DRESS?! We are not just the Nation Of Fat People, we are also the nation of I don't give a rat's ass holy damn about how I look/dress. I guess when you let one aspect of your appearance slide so far into the shitter, then the rest is bound to follow suit. Ratty t-shirts with threadbare sweatpants. Pajama bottoms as "pants". Bright pink pajama bottoms with a frayed navy blue sweatshirt. The chick with the green and yellow top and the orange running shorts. For the love of all that is noble and good in this world people! AND PUT YOUR FUCKING HAT ON STRAIGHT, YOU MORON! One would think that it would be nice to be viewed as someone who can adequately dress themselves. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU ARE STANDING BEHIND THE COUNTER OF A BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENT. Dorks. Auugh, it makes my brain hurt.

And don't get me started about the fine folks of the TSA. One asshole tries to light his shoe and now the rest of us have to walk around in our socks at every friggin' airport. Hope the bastard!

And of course the octegenarian who is a good 100 lbs in the red, with the white hair and a slightly bemused look gets the nod for "additional screening." Holy mother of pearl, how does that make ANY sense?! In the entire history of terrorism, hijackings, and car-bombings, when has the asshole EVER been an overweight 68 year-old white guy who has to have his grandson show him how to use a cell phone?

And you, yes you. The space-case right in front of me. You know who you are. There is one door off this fucking plane, and the place to stop and check your tickets, scratch your ass, or fire up the $&#$*@! cell phone is NOT in the big middle of the one route between it and the BAGGAGE CLAIM! Yes, you and the three-piece mondo expano-carry-on nightmare from hell that you absently drag behind you (which of course extends your effective interference radius another good seven feet) as you shuffle along at a snails pace while bemusedly punching at the keys on your cell. HOLY FREAKIN HAYSOOS as much as old people shouldn't drive, they sure as hell shouldn't fly either.

But, on the plus side, I've got wireless highsepeed internet in my hotel room. Oh, and there's a Borders and a Red Robin within walking distance!

Being here ain't bad. Getting here? Whole different story....