It's not clear to me that the thin aluminum floors of a typical 737 can withstand the enormous gravitational fields, or the tides, generated by your typical obese American.

The truth? You weep for Smith and all fat people, and you curse Southwest's policies. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Smith's defenestration, while tragic, probably saved lives. And those policies, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want policies on those planes, you need them on those planes. We use words like honor, code, loyalty, weight, density, gravitational collapse. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent keeping aircraft aloft. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket on the aircraft I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a zone bar, and do some jumping jacks. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

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