Metric Fat Suit
(March 19, 2006)

First it was Hollywood: Julia Roberts, Gwenyth Paltrow and Courtney Cox. Then it was the dime a dozen media personalities whose names no one can remember. Now it was time for me to blow all of these actresses and wannabe reporters out of the water. I, Suzy TooToo would don a fat suit. 

Transit, a movie set, the gym, every day life - fat suits have done a lot. But I wanted something new, chic; something unheard of so I decided to attend a sporting event. But not just any sporting event, my favourite team: the Toronto Raptors. 

I am a huge b-ball fan with the pick-and-rolls, shooting treys from downtown and the dunkeroos. In fact I was known to dribble in basketball before my suspension in the church league. I still stand by my appeal that the nun moved over late. It was not an offensive foul.

Enough of my injustice and back to the fat suit. 

I arrived at the Raptor game three times my body weight. If it weren’t for my trademark glowing smile and pretty purple eyes, I wouldn’t even have recognized myself in the fat suit.

The upperbowl usher took me aside.
“Excuse me Miss, are you planning to sit in this section?”
“Yes, is there a problem?”

He took me aside and whispered.
“Miss our seats…”
“Yes?”
“There is no easy way to say this but our seats are too small for your physique. I am sorry but you can’t watch the game from your seat.”

At this point three high school kids walked by.
“Look it’s Fatty Patty!”
“No, it’s Large Marge!”
“You’re both wrong. It’s Margo Cargo!”
They laughed at me while giving each other high fives.
“Good one man.”
“You rock!”

“Margo Cargo! Margo Cargo!”
“Shut up you little brats!”
“Or what? You’ll eat us?”
They ran to their seats laughing.

The usher, obviously feeling sorry for me, again apologized.
“I am so sorry Miss.”
“But how am I to watch the game?”
“You can watch it from one of our many fine restaurants located in the lower bowl.”
“Am I even allowed down there?”
“Hold on.”

The usher communicated on his walkie-talkie to his supervisor. A five-minute conversation with the words “She’s huge. Imagine the amount of money she will spend in the lounge.” And I was accepted by the corporate powerhouse that is Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment.

“Remember it is only access to the Lounge – not to the seats.”

I obeyed and Usher Betty escorted me to the Platinum Club under the Platinum seats. It was a real snazzy place. The kind of place that serves steak for breakfast, truffles for lunch and lobster for supper. I, on a strict Ham-enforced budget, ate celery sticks. I watched the first half, alone, on a big screen television. 

During halftime, all the seat dwellers arrived to stretch their legs. Many stared at my pie shaped calves but one woman stared more intensely. She continued to stare as she approached me.

“Excuse me?”
“Yes?” I said as I popped another celery stick.
“I was in here earlier and you were sitting in the same spot. Have you watched the entire game from the lounge?”

I explained my situation of the inadequate seating in the upper bowl.
“That’s horrible!”
I concurred with the woman.

“You know, platinum seats are roomier than the upper bowl seats. My kids aren’t with me today so I have two extra seats. Would you like to join me?”

I accepted her invitation.

The woman was correct. The Platinum seats were a lot roomier. My fat suit and me fitted snuggly into the comfy seat. The seats were only a few rows above the Raptor bench. Plus the game was a lot better from the seats than the lounge. And my new friend Kendra was a lot of fun. She had lived in Toronto before moving home to Chicago, then to New York and back to Toronto. We chatted the entire third quarter.

After the 3rd, Kendra pointed to the far foul line.
“Look they are setting up the trampoline at the top of the three point arc. This is my favourite mascot stunt. The Raptor runs from the corner, jumps on the trampoline, flies through the air, catches a ball from the cheerleader in mid air and dunks it. Amazing.”

“Wow, that’s a 457.2 centimetre jump in height. Impressive!”
“You know the metric system?”
“Of course, I am a product of the Canadian public school system.”
“I’m so fascinated with the metric system but my husband…”

At this moment, a Raptor poked his head up from the team meeting on the bench.
“Did I hear the word metric?” He shouted as looked at my new friend and me.

“There’s my husband right now. Hi Honey!” she waived at the Raptor.
“Your husband is Antonio Davis?”
“Yes.”

“The same Antonio Davis who demanded a trade from Toronto because he didn't want his kids to learn the metric system?"
“I disagreed with him on that.”

“The same Antonio Davis who charged into the crowd because he thought his wife was being threatened?”
“He gets so emotional sometimes…”

“The same Antonio Davis who is running towards me right now?”

Kendra turned to the court.
“Oh hi Honey. This is Suzy. She was teaching me the wonders of the metric system.”

I never stayed for the introduction as I was running for my life.
“How dare you teach weights and measures to my wife!”

Fearing my life, I bolted from the blush platinum seats with Antonio in hot pursuit. There were line ups up the aisle, down the aisle and into the underground. Being in a fat suit I couldn’t slip through the crowd, as I was accustomed. The only place to run was on the court.

I ran onto the court with my attacker in my shadow. My lead was quickly diminishing as my fake little stumpy legs were no match for the leg-span of the 208.28-cm Davis. From sheer fear of Davis (and the imperial system), I picked up my pace as I reached centre court. At centre court I looked to my right to see the Raptor mascot running towards me.

“You are going to ruin my dunk you little fatty!”

I stuck out my right hand and gave the Raptor a paralysing straight arm. Before I knew it I was on the trampoline and in mid-air. As I floated across the air, those 703.58 centimetres to the basket, I rejoiced in the freedom and fleetness that only a fat suit suspended in mid air can provide.

Then I heard a voice from my left.
“Heads up!”
I turned and caught the basketball from the cheerleader and delivered one of the greatest slam-dunks in the history of the game. 

As I hung from the rim basking in the sound of the cheers of my adoring public, I felt a tug at my ankles. I looked down to see my metrically challenged attacker pulling me down. I fell, but not to the ground. No, not indeed. I fell on Antonio Davis.

I think Mr. Davis now knows the weight of 153.76 kilograms.  I wish him a speedy, 160 km/h like, recovery.