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Writer's pictureThe Dreamweaver

The Fattest Man in the World | The Dreamweaver


I was in Chicago riding a southbound 'L' train heading into downtown when a couple boarded my car.


She was a nicely dressed, middle-aged White woman who was followed on board by her husband, an enormous Black man wearing dungarees and a denim jacket.


The couple tried sitting together in the seat in front of me, but the man was too large and his wife got up and sat in the seat across the aisle.


The man returned to his seat, sitting down with such force I though the bench would come unbolted.


He then proceeded to sit back and nearly half of his massive body slumped over the back of the bench, nearly pinning me into my seat.


The man was moving around trying to get comfortable in what was a much too tiny seat for his colossal anatomy and he was getting so worked up and frustrated that he began to foam at the mouth, saliva pouring from his lips.


Horrified, I decided to get off at the next stop---Clybourn---and walk the rest of the way into town.


I managed to squeeze myself out of the confines of my seat and walked over to the door.


As the train pulled onto the platform, the woman stood up and, not being able to walk around her husband whose elephantine legs were sprawled out into the aisle, handed me her travel card asking me to check her in as she had forgotten to do so as she boarded.


Just as the doors opened, I managed to grab her card and check her in while at the same time retrieving my own travel card from my pocket and touching it to the card reader.


The woman called to me again waving her husband's travel card asking me to check her husband in as well.


By this time, I was having trouble checking out as the carder reader kept rejecting my card.


I took the card from the woman and quickly checked her husband in and, just as the doors were closing, managed to check out and descend onto the platform, both the man and his wife waving to me as the train pulled away from the platform.


Feeling relieved, I walked downstairs to the station hall and as I was consulting the station's exit map, two women approached, the shorted one began speaking to me in broken English asking, as I was able to make out, if I knew where a bank was.


By the sound of her accent I thought she might have been a Spanish speaker so I began speaking to her in Spanish until the confused look on her face told me she didn't understand me.


Just then, her companion, a much taller, more attractive and slightlly older woman approached me and said she needed to find a bank.


I asked her if she was looking for a particular bank or if she simply needed to withdraw money from an ATM, to which she acknowledged the latter.


I told her that "here in the Netherlands," there are banks and ATMs on every corner and that they would all be free to use and that she could even use her bank card in the smallest cafés, shops, vending machines and even public toilets!


The women thanked me and wished me a nice day and disappeared into the crowd of commuters.


Then I woke up.





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