Fat people on planes
Oh I’m sorry, did you expect me to say large boned?
Did you expect me to excuse each excess stone,
Would you be able to ignore the layer of fat the envelopes my phone?
No. If you’re fat, pay for business class,
Why must I be punished for your fat arse?
I can regulate my eating, you cannot,
I’m not saying fat people should be shot,
They just shouldn’t fly in economy.
Don’t lie, I’ve got a point, their stench of oozing grease assaults my senses,
I try to sleep, to ignore the pound of meat that pushes against my side, threatens to break down my fences,
But alas, to no avail, this oaf does snore as well, how swell, my dream comes true,
My eyes wonder longingly for any source of help, but I cannot lock eyes with a member of the crew,
I am alone, to fight off this beast, to save my seat, my greatest feat,
But what can I do but sit and pray, or do I play a beggars game?
I slowly turn my face to it,
To face this goon the little s***,
I give him my best intense eyes,
A mirror image of when he spies fries,
And glare my best German look of disapproval,
I thrust from my wavelength, signals of removal,
But dare I say, I’m shocked to see, he is unmoved,
He returns an equal look for free.
I do this several times, again and again,
I realize this display is why the world hates men,
And yet I can’t stop, I must correct this fat slop,
For when I book a seat on a flight,
If you’re black or white, small or large of height, a pretty or an ugly sight,
I care only if you are fat. And if you’re fat, shame on you,
Heed my warning, cut down on the stew,
I don’t want to hate you, but you force my hand,
You are quite truly a very fat man,
You ruined my flight, you stole from me my sleep,
And I hope that karma gets you for it, and shears the fat from you like wool from a sheep.
By Marc Auf der Heyde