This is an article about a serious weight-related issue treated in an unacceptably offensive manner:

The FAA's No-Fatties Diet
Excess Weight Rules Add A New Dimension to Flying

By Paul Farhi
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, January 30, 2003; Page C01



Medical researchers have known for years that being grossly overweight can lead to all kinds of adverse conditions -- diabetes, heart attacks, a lack of dates around prom time.

Now, it turns out, somebody else's obesity could kill you, too.

The Federal Aviation Administration, going beyond poking into your bags, this week effectively began questioning your diet. The agency ordered commuter airlines to ask some of their passengers how much they weigh, and even to weigh some of them.

Rude? Intrusive? Yes, but intrusiveness with a deadly serious purpose: The FAA suspects that the crash of a plane in Charlotte that killed 21 people earlier this month may have been caused by a passenger and baggage load that exceeded federal safety standards.

The FAA won't come right out and say it, but it suspects we're much fatter than it ever guessed. This is a pretty good assumption, considering that media reports headlined "Americans Are Fatter Than Ever" long ago surpassed the number of stories headlined "American School Kids Are Dumber Than Ever."

The government wants to find out how much we really weigh because, for the past eight years, it has been telling private operators to assume that an adult passenger weighs 185 pounds in winter and 180 pounds in summer. The official explanation for this seasonal difference is that people wear more clothes in winter, but we suspect it comes down to one word: "Eggnog."

We also suspect that the FAA is basing its "average" on snapshots of the old us, back when we were in high school and still working out. (Memo to FAA: We plan to start working out again soon, honest.)

The new policy doesn't apply to large jetliners, where total passenger weight is almost irrelevant, unless you happen to be stuck in the center seat. This could mean that heavier people will avoid the puddle-jumpers and stick to the big carriers, which should give new meaning to such phrases as "wide-bodied" and "jumbo" jet.

Interestingly, the FAA has instructed the airlines to add 10 pounds to whatever passengers tell them they weigh. FAA spokesman Paul Takemoto says this isn't because the agency thinks people lie about their weight (and he avoids describing this as a fudge factor) but because people usually don't include weight of their clothes and shoes. (Ten pounds? What are you people wearing? Kevlar?)

While we're all for airline safety, we also think the FAA might want to think some of this stuff through. This could have a serious effect on the culture of flying.

For example, will flight attendants soon go around asking "Coffee, tea or Dexatrim?"

Will airline tickets be priced by the pound?

Will frequent-flier credits someday be handed out on the basis of miles flown, fare paid and pounds lost?

Might we someday hear new advertising slogans, such as "If you want to fly our airline, you've got to stay off the wings"?

Will a whole new ticket aftermarket spring up, with thinner passengers selling their heftier brethren special "payload" rights, much as companies now trade EPA pollution credits?

Ultimately, we fear, this new policy could upset the already precarious passenger ecosystem. We shudder to imagine the scenes.

At check-in for the hop from, say, Rochester to Albany, you are eyed suspiciously. "Sir, is that a Snickers in your pocket?" the gate attendant asks accusingly.

A corpulent gentleman and his Rubenesque wife board -- and fellow passengers' eyes start to bug out. To them, he is no longer pleasingly plump; she is not zaftig or big-boned. No, they are as potentially dangerous as terrorists.

The pilot refuses to take off. Airport security arrives. "Sorry, folks," the flight attendant says as the couple is hustled off. "You should have held the mashed potatoes."

As the plane pulls away from the gate, the passengers gaze approvingly as the couple is made to do push-ups on the tarmac. From the hangar, a bus slowly emerges, ready to banish them to Amtrak.

Lawsuits, inevitably, follow.



© 2003 The Washington Post Company