On a weekend at the beginning of June, a journalist called Rachel Cooke flew from Spain to Luton Airport and wanted to sprint to the terminal building but all of these fat people were in her way. This annoyed her.
Their problem was – I’m going to come right out and say it – that they were fat and this made walking difficult. When your thighs are colossal, the only way it’s possible to move at all is by rolling your hips to an unnatural degree: up, down, up, down. The slowness, for those of us who like to do things at a sprint, was painful to behold. Standing in line, I couldn’t help but wonder which hurt most: their flamingo-shaded sunburn, or their boulder-sized knees.
Does this sound snobbish? If it does, I can’t say I care overmuch.
Actually, it sounds cruel. But I’ll give her a pass: airports are annoying places, particularly when returning from holiday and all you want to do is get home but you have to stand in line. Being annoyed in an airport, however, should not translate into doing junk science on reviews of a serious subject: the causes of modern obesity. (See also: Mocking disability: the Telegraph’s hate speech.)
I am fat. I also like to do things at a sprint, and the awful slowness of airport waiting lines is one of the things that makes me practice my deep breathing I-am-not-annoyed-or-bored mantra. Whether the people slowing me up are fat or thin.