Our society is lost - short tales from a hotel Two quick short stories from a hotel I'm at this weekend. First off is the lumbering lardmonger who showed up at breakfast.  It was a 5'6" mayo, probably on the order of 300-350lbs.  Full on death fat with planetary proportions.  It had on compression socks, so likely gouty with late stage diabetic complications, and the beast had a walker.  It's age was hard to guess, but given it's wife (also an eatbeast, but not as far gone), I'm going to guess early to mid-40s. This beast kept harassing the waitresses for more food.  It started with a made to order omelet with a side of bacon, then ordered two biscuits with gravy with a side of bacon, then ordered oatmeal with brown sugar, with a side of bacon.  It's eatbeast "wife" actually cooed "Oh, that's a health choice, it has protein!" when the lardmonger ordered oatmeal. No bitch.  Adding another 400kcal of oats and sugar is NOT a healthy choice for an already 700-800kcal breakfast. But what's worst is what happened when I checked in.  As most people know, I'm diabetic.  Type 2, yes some of us are type 2 shitlords.  It sucks.  I control my condition with frequent exercise.  I work in mini-exercise when ever I can, because exercise promotes insulin sensitivity, and engagement of skeletal muscles clears glucose from your blood stream without the need for insulin. Part of my deal is I never take the elevator unless I absolutely have to (for instance, I'm wheeling a cart of supplies at work).  I live on the 12th floor of my building, I take the fucking stairs.  Stairs are my friends.  Stairs fight the beetus for me.  Also, you never encounter fats in the stairs. I like rooms on the 4th floor or higher at hotels so I can get some stair work in as part of my travel routine.  I asked for a high floor, got the 6th floor, and then asked where the stairs were when I checked in, note this is after being told where the elevator was. The girl behind the desk looked at me oddly and repeated directions to the elevators.  I looked her in the eye and said clearly "I heard you before, but I am looking for the stairs," and to be clear, she was not a fat.  Maybe skinny fat, but normal BMI. She gave me a confused look and said "Why would you want to use the stairs when we have an elevator?" There are stairs, they're located in a really inconvenient place, and were obviously only designed for use during an emergency. What has our society come to?  I'd ask myself why are we building for laziness, but I know the answer.  Because a staggering 70% of our country is fat.