Seven Hundred Pounds

I had to hit the road for a couple of days.

Back to Kansas City where they are still pissing and moaning about the World Series loss.

I had to bring it up to the guys I know out there, but being from Buffalo they quickly reminded me that the Chiefs had just beat the Bills.

So, that lost a bit of steam.

Yet traveling around is not good for diet, rest, or my ability to tolerate total strangers.

Shall we recap?

I went to a Mexican Restaurant for lunch on Monday.

A huge burrito.

The guy who was with me asked me if I had ever tried fried ice cream.

God it's good.

Of course that night I had to get a good Kansas City steak. That was served with a couple of florets of broccoli so I was feeling good.

This is crazy, I thought. I need to eat better or I'm going to weight 700 pounds by the time this trip is over.

And I almost made it.

I had fruit for breakfast the next morning.

I skipped lunch.

And then I walked around the Detroit airport looking for something good to eat. I even sat down in a Japanese restaurant thinking there had to be healthy choices on that menu, but I couldn't make heads or tails of what the hell they served, so I left.

Ate a slice of pizza and nearly made it by Mrs. Fields cookie store.

"How much are the peanut butter chocolate brownies?" I asked.

"$3.75," she said.

I had a five-dollar bill in my hand.

There was a skinny guy on my right shoulder saying 'No!'

The rest of me didn't give a crap.

I forked over the five.

God.

It was good.

It was, fortunately, the last thing I ate on the trip, but I felt miserable after I ate it.

So glad to finally be home.

"We're having a good dinner tomorrow," I said.

Fried ice cream and peanut butter brownies.

No wonder all the people you see at the airport look like hippos.