FRIED RICE, HOW I LOST OVER 300 LBS. AND WAFTED OVER BOSTON'S CHINATOWN, A MEMOIR, continued...

Ask me what I fear most? Pit bulls and rats. While the invalid sat in the van, I painstakingly dissembled his pain in the ass scooter as if an Erector Set. Yanking the heap up the steps, I opened the door and peered down a darkened hallway. At the end of that hallway? A small pit bull. I told the invalid of the dog and he quipped of his ownership. Yet, arriving at the doorway, he recanted. The dog was not his. See you later Worcester, your multitude of double and triple deckers, your spike addict minions, and your rat sized pit bulls. The Sunshine State beckoned me…

I confided my fear of flying to a friend. Not the fear of flying itself but the public gaze I would have to endure. I purchased a pair of tickets to play it safe regarding my girth and the cramping of seats. Ah that day, arriving at that counter only to hear, “I’m sorry Sir, but your seats are in two different rows.” F, my initial cognition.

As passengers boarded, I remained at the counter with my bags, four bills of girth, and humiliation. Great. Now, I would be last to board, and would have to endure the ogling of the entirety of the plane. Although this occurred in the early 90s, I still remember the 6x sweatpants and waves of perspiration dripping my backside.

“Sir, we would like to offer you a complimentary first class seat.” Awesome.

Another woman escorted me into the plane. The arm would not go down. Crap, I don’t fit. Want to piss people off? Delay their flight. A shuffling of people and I'm finally seated in coach.

“Sir, we are connecting in Dulles but your seats are together on that flight.” Whew. On the next aircraft I cherished my coupling of seats.

“That half of chair is yours,” I informed the polite woman in the third seat. As I worry, Will I fit in the restroom? Other passengers mumble something or another about not taking off. The stewardess walks down the aisle and stops at my row.

“We have one down here,” she states loudly to her twin up front. F, what now? And there smiles little Johnny Doe. The stewardess wants him to sit in my leftover spot. I look at the remainder of seat, the child, the seat. The kid never made it to Disney. Not on this flight.