by Nic Olson
Sitting next to the city lake, lazy and listless on the bench, you really get an understanding of Regina’s second place finish of Canada’s fattest city. Buttloads of flesh being hauled around the lake with a hope of thin days ahead. Arriving to the Wascana from anywhere besides Fort Wayne, Indiana or St Catherines, Ontario will shock you at the general girth of the city. Not enough curry or poutine or curried poutine.
And now I get to watch the portly file onto planes and spread the Western gospel of obesity to the world. And I get to sit, fiddling with my boarding pass wondering if I got bumped to first class because I was still sleeping while doing that computerized check-in and charged myself $309 extra, or if it is because I booked my flight months ago, or if it’s because I just looked good and eye-flirted the check-in girl at 530 am.
Besides the average weight, being in Regina reminded me of how storms can be seen in full and how this is one of the only places this is possible. If you could anticipate physical and mental storms more places in the world maybe we’d be somewhere else, and not constantly sheltering ourselves from rain and general storms.
A comedy film showing on the plane had a disclaimer that the film had or referenced a plane crash. I feel like I should warn you that while reading this post or most posts on ‘Balls of Rice’ there may be references to how much blogging sucks. Also, storms, obesity and how first class I am.
The first thing I did when I arrived in Montreal was get two slices of vegetarian pizza. Then I bought groceries. Obesity follows me everywhere. I hope that metabolism follows just as close.