http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/travel_news/article-3802277/Lawyer-suing-Emirates-airline-enduring-nine-hour-flight-seated-obese-man.html

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3361237&forum_id=2#31475316)

love how DM asks anyone to email them if thye know the fatso.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3361237&forum_id=2#31475379)

(I know XO racists hate all blacks and think they're the same, but Nigerians are actually big believers in hospitality)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3361237&forum_id=2#31476431)

Next thing I know, I wake up hot as fuck, cramped, and stoned out of my mind. Somewhere between me laying my head down and waking up, I'd gone from mild discomfort to full blown panic attack. I was pouring sweat, I couldn't breathe, and I needed to GET THE FUCK OFF THIS PLANE. I wanted to lay down on the bathroom floor or the aisle or any fucking where but here, next to this fat fuck, whose fleshy mass now felt like it was crushing me against the window. And I very nearly tried to do so before realizing that doing so would almost certainly cause a scene.

Realizing that a cold drink might help, I called the flight attendant over and asked for something to drink. Assuming that I was merely thirsty and not literally on the edge of psychological collapse, the cruel bitch responded with a dismissive "sir, we'll be doing beverage service shortly" and began walking away. "NO! I'm not well. I need something NOW" I yelled after her. She took a few steps to the beverage cart, opened a can of ginger ale, and proceeded to pour me the smallest fucking quantity of beverage I've ever been served, literally a sip.

Fortunately, the offensively small serving of ginger ale actually brought an end to the panic attack and I managed to make it to LAX without causing a scene. I later saw a mother point me out to her small child, in what I can only assume was an example of why not to do drugs.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3361237&forum_id=2#31475506)