Fat Men Who Whistle When They Breathe Will Never Understand

Today I witnessed an amazing sunrise, maybe the most incredible I've ever seen. There were thunderstorms in the eastern sky, and the clouds were low and thick, continuing and flowing together for a great distance. There were soft lines that stretched though these clouds, and each of these lines was richly traced in pinks and yellows. It was raining in the distance, and wide diagonol bands of orange, pink, and soft red were falling from the sky. Every now and then, this beauty was punctuated by long bolts of lightning.

It was some fantastic, life-affirming shit.

I was very excited, and I wanted to share it with someone. There was a fat man in the breakfast room, gnawing at a bagel.

This same fat man had requested that the pool open early, so he could wade in peace. I thought, a man who wakes up early just to float in the water...he's a man who can appreciate a good sunrise. I informed him that the most majestic one I had ever seen was taking place.

He got up from the table and walked barely outside the door. He said, "There was lightning just now."

"I know. Isn't it amazing?"

"Well, is that a good sign or a bad sign?"

Immense disappointment. I hadn't considered seeing it as anything other than what is was; medicinally beautiful.

"I don't know, but it sure is pretty."

"It'll be cool anyway. That's good enough for me. I've got to work in a hot kitchen all day."


I did not let that whistley man spoil it for me, but I am learning good reasons not to share. And as if I should be punished, the man thinks he has license to casually speak with me. He waits at the desk, whistling under the crushing overage of his stomach. He is hot kitchen people. He tells me how he's been shipped here to get a nursing home into shape, and I just wouldn't believe how bad it is.

He wouldn't believe how much I fucking hate him behind my hotel smile. All over a sunrise and a subtle tune.

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