King of Kings

I wanted to eat lunch by myself for once, so for my midday break I drove to the closest food establishment in the area: Burger King. I try my best to avoid fast food these days, for it’s utterly disgusting and severely unhealthy, but my car was on ‘E’ and wasting precious drops of fuel is not an option.

The line inside wrapped around the line-separators in front of the register, so I waited for 10 ridiculous minutes. As I waited, I casually glanced around the room and developed an insensitive realization: every person in this restaurant was overweight—very overweight, and remember, this is lunch time, so the joint was pretty full. I only say this because I care dammit!. Being very overweight risks severe health problems--it's a big problem (no pun intended). Because I had the time, I counted the number of overweight people in the restaurant dining area (31 people) and the number of skinny people (only 2); concerning the skinnies, one was an 80-something grandma out with her pudgy grandchildren, and the other was an older man in a military uniform. Everyone else fit into the sweat pants-wearing overweight class.

I blame the food. This food is like poison! I can’t eat this. I was beginning to feel sick. I’ll nibble on a french fry (freedom fry?) and turn into some unhealthy slob! It’s not these people’s fault that they aren’t healthy: blame the food! This stuff will kill me—I have to leave. NOW!

“Can I help the next person in line?” Shit. The lady behind the register was referring to me. I was trapped. I had to order.
I cautiously settled for a simple cheeseburger, a small order of fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Safe enough…right?

A dirty, salt-covered table in the corner seemed appropriate for dining, for I could easily hide myself. I sat, watched the others, and noticed that nobody was really happy eating this food. They ate because they had to. They settled with this place because it was cheap and it wasn't their own kitchen. They ate because even though it didn’t taste great, it gave their taste buds enough of grace and nourishment to last them throughout the day.

As I sat, this younger overweight woman wearing flood pants, a faded pink shirt, and a small backpack that read “I HEART Pandas” rose from her seat with her empty cup in hopes of a safe trip to the refill station. Her walking space must have been limited in the aisles, for she tripped over a chair. Unfortunately for her, it was one of those chairs that are cemented to the floor, so she ended up going down instead of the innocent inanimate object. She hit the floor, but no worries—her mustached boyfriend (or brother) and her mother who wore a dirty off-white shirt with bunnies playing on the front stood up and almost helped her. They didn’t move too far from their table though. The fallen woman stood up by herself, wiped off the floor crumbs, and continued on her journey for a refill. Nobody in the dining area seemed to care about the woman’s well being after she fell. Most didn’t even glance over when they heard her head bounce off the floor—Burger King made everyone zombies.

We all fall. Sometimes we get back up, realize what we’re doing is stupid, and make a change. Sometimes we fall and don’t learn a lesson: we continue our journey to the refill machine. Every person in that restaurant and almost every person in our country will eventually have to make a choice concerning what they eat, but what are they going to do? Will they change their ways or continue their journey to the refill station.

I think I’ll be somewhere in between. Maybe I'll get a refill, but if I do, I'll take my time and try not to trip over any furniture.