Monday 15 February 2010 @ 5:32 am
This came via Twitter, from a woman we’ll call FattyHater.
You’re right, Jessica Fletcher. It was murder, I wrote, when I was ejected from that plane. You’re quite the aging, local lady-sleuth; a credit to Cabot Cove.
And to be completely honest? I did expect special treatment: the same special treatment every PAYING CUSTOMER SHOULD GET.
I know you can’t be bothered to track all the details because it’s just way too easy to run with “Hollywood had it coming!” But for those who came in late:
a) I fit in the seat on an Oakland to Burbank Southwest Airlines flight
b) My lard didn’t spill over onto my fellow passengers
c) I could buckle the belt. I complied with the Southwest Airlines standards… and yet they bounced me regardless.
So what you call “expecting celebrity treatment” I call “expecting what I paid for.” In other words, a seat; which I fit into. I am fat, yes; but not Too Fat To Fly (yet).
I don’t know how you’re somehow finding a way to paint this as a portrait of Hollywood ego and excess run amok, but you flatter me, madam: I’m not that guy. One can’t have a giant-sized ass and a giant-sized ego (must… resist urge… to make… circa… 2004… JLo joke…). Your anger with me over what’s very clearly a case of an airline fucking up (then continuing to fuck up, compounding the fuck-up with mistruths and half-information) is better saved for those who SEEK extra privilege. I don’t and certainly didn’t in this case. I wanted nothing more nor less than EVERY OTHER PASSENGER: to sit in the seat I paid for. That I fit into.*
From time-to-time, my small degree of success in film will lead to some kind of expression of irrational resentment from a total stranger. It sucks, but I get it: in the past, there have been times when I, too, resented others who’ve had more/done more than me. But while resentment is a very human (albeit petty) emotion, I still don’t want to be on the receiving end of it – particularly resentment from a person you don’t even know/have never met.
I’ll ask that you search for another emotion at the bottom of your box, Pandora: how about some fucking empathy? I know I deserve no compassion because I’m a twisted creature of Hollywood, pockets stuffed with hundies and Ricotta cheese, but take off your hate-specs and ask if you’d be as dismissive about what happened to me if it happened to that friend at your birthday party – the big girl you’ve got your arm around (I saw her pic at the top of your linked site)? Would you still dismiss it as your friend expecting special, celebrity treatment? (And does she know how much you blindly respect Southwest Airlines, including their Shame-the-Slobs policy?)
Stereotype me all you like, ma’am, but I hope if you’re ever wronged, people don’t treat you in the same way you’re treating me, blaming the victim. “Whelp – that’s what he gets for being slightly recognizable due to his occupation. That smug bastard…”
If you’re interested in the complete story, and not just the superficial incomplete details, please listen to SModcast 106. You’ll find the tale is not about my raging, ravenous celebrity ego; it’s about an airline that continues to dig a PR nightmare hole with every minute that goes by sans phone call or meaningful apology (as many have pointed out, that blog was more insult than apology, as they merely used that statement to maintain their position: “See, we made no real error because we’ve got this Fuck-the-Fatties policy…”).
Talking about what happened to me is a way to present people who look like me (or are heavier, if that’s possible) with some facts about what happens when you’re morbidly obese and you try to ride the SWAyze-dog. I’d like other people who aren’t thin to know this could happen to them, too, on Southwest Airlines; because it was kinda humiliating, and I wouldn’t wish that shit on a fuck-knuckle like yourself, let alone a fellow Fatty for whom I’d feel the compassion you apparently can’t feel for someone you’ve damned and dismissed as an… ugh… “celebrity”.
Just, do me a favor ma’am: could you stand over there, on that large piece of plastic? That’s right: a bit more to the left, annnnnnd…
*Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to have to stress that point, over and over; but it’s the whole crux of their case, and it’s the central lie this whole affair is predicated upon. I’m not denying I’m fat at all; I’m denying their accusation that I didn’t fit in the seat – which is their entire justification for kicking me off the plane. And earlier, on Twitter, I already offered to prove I could easily fit into the seat in question (as well as buckle the seat belt) in front of a live studio audience. But contrary to the ramblings of all the chucklefucks who think this is good publicity for me, it sucks to have to subject myself to public scrutiny for what I look like. You think I dig being acknowledged for this dubious honor of Too Fat To Fly? Fifteen years of being “the CLERKS-guy” became TF-TF overnight. Awesome legacy.
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