Let me regale you with my recent business trip... I have a yearly conference I attend, the only thing that takes me away from the company.  A nice respite away from my co-workers to a major metropolitan area convention center.  This year I get to visit the grand old city of New Orleans.  I live in small town USA, so the opportunity to go to a major city, especially like N.O., it's a treat for me even if work related. I have to take 2 planes to get there, and unfortunately 3 on the way back.  Is what it is.  This is my travels... On plane 2 the way to N.O. I had taken my isle seat.  A nice well dressed mid 30s gentleman took the window seat.  We sat chit-chatted while the plane filled up, a seat remaining between us.  As all the overhead bins were being closed I could tell we both had the happy thought that nobody would be taking this seat.  And then it started coming down the isle. It was exactly what you imagine when I say FAT, bald, white guy.  Six foot nothing, gotta be more than 400 pounds.  Round Peter  Griffen glasses.  Neck fat folds that begin at the ears and end, somewhere (shudder).  He looks at me (in the isle) and I say "This your seat?" while pointing at the empty one.  All the hope in my head that there was some other reason this fat sweaty man was standing there looking at me.  No such luck.  Of course the plane was waiting on him.  Of course this is the last empty seat on the god damn plane. The first words out of his mouth "Can I get a seat belt extension?".  Fuck you, such a thing shouldn't even exist.  All two and a half hours sweating, watching some movies on his iPhone. Ya know...  Fat people are fucking slow.  God damn it, I'm at a convention trying to get my shit done so maybe the last day of the convention I can skip out and see some of the city.  It's about a half mile walk through a mall to the convention center from my hotel, always caught behind gigantor, beetusaurs, and their chubkins.  Every fucking time.  It's clear these people are tourists, duh fuq? go walk out in the stupid ridiculous humidity and work off some of that jambalaya. Don't let the fat asses ruin you trip... On the way home, as mentioned earlier, I had 3 flights.  Atlanta, oh... Atlanta.  I've never seen so many fat asses getting driven around in those airport carts.  "Seats 6", yeah if they aren't 800 pounds each.  Luckily I didn't have to sit with anyone fat.  A nice mother/daughter combo that was quite enough for me to sleep to destination 2. I arrived in Minneapolis, concourse D.  It's a LONG way over to B where my puddle jumper would take me back to small town.  I have a couple hours and wanted a coffee, time for a walk.  The beetus monsters lined up at the tram to get a ride to their concourses.  I mean, never mind that there's about 15 "moving walkways" between here and everywhere.  You basically don't have to walk.   At my gate, the little puddle jumper company had two outgoing flights.  About an hour of sitting and people for the other flight showed up.  A group of 4, gigantic large hairy ape-ettes.  They each had a carry on except one that had a carry on, a CPAP machine, and a fucking BOX of cupcakes.  Not like a four pack in a box, a mother fucking dozen. The small airline allows for one check free, one carry on free.  This ham planet assumed that her carry on was the carry on, the CPAP was a medical device so free, and the box of fucking cupcakes is food so free also.  The airline made it clear this was not going to "fly" (I'm surprised the plane can either).  So the 4 of them found a way to pack the CPAP into someone else's luggage and worry not about the box of cupcakes.  That box was long empty before the plane even took off.  I wanted to vomit.  The hambeast finished off 3 herself dripping frosting all down her shirt and laughing about it. Finally back home.  The next morning I ran 6 miles just to work off any residual fatness that may have gotten on me during the trip. Just, why.  I don't get it.