The following dramatization is a pre-enactment of a potential future event. The events and characters depicted here are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, past or present, is purely coincidental. This presentation does not portray the future but rather a future; one which must never become reality.

Setting: Ryan's Steakhouse, 7:42pm, March 12, 2007 (two months subsequent to the passing of the Obesity Protection Act)

• < A plain-clothed OPA Enforcement Officer approaches the table of a rather large patron, who is engrossed in his meal. >
• CP: Sir, can I ask you a few questions?
• RP: Mrrrr? < Chews, then swallows food. > How can I help you, Sir?
• CP: I couldn't help but notice that you are on your third plate of food.
• RP: I...I just wanted to try a little of each dish.
• CP: May I see your driver's license please.
• RP: < Sheepishly hands over his driver's license. >
• CP: It says here that you are 6' 0 and weigh 256 lbs. Is that correct?
• RP: Well, actually I have lost some weight. I'm down to 230.
• CP: Do you have any documentation or way to prove that?
• RP: Umm. < Looks around the restaurant. > No. Not without a scale. < Smiles, until he notices that the officer isn't. >
• CP: Sir, 256 lbs at your height places makes you a Class F Diner. Your mealtime consumption rate is not to exceed 1520 cph (calories/hour).
• RP: I'm actually a food critic. It was my understanding that my status as a dining professional makes me exempt from these regulations.
• CP: You are mistaken. Exemptions apply only to politicians and some athletic classes. < long pause > Do you have any idea what your consumption rate was?
• RP: Well, I was never very strong in math. < Pauses and thinks; then meekly says: > I did have a salad.
• CP: With salad dressing, cheese and bacon bits.
• RP: Umm...ok. Three plates plus a salad. A little over 1550 cph?
• CP: Sir, you had dessert between plates 2 and 3. You are pushing 1610.
• RP: That high? Officer, I honestly had no idea.
• CP: < rolls eyes > Please. < Pulls a pad from his pocket and begins to write in it. >
• RP: Err...what are you doing?
• CP: Writing out a citation.
• RP: < Sits quietly while his citation is generated; idly playing with his fork. After several minutes he absent-mindedly stabs a juicy piece of ham and places it in his mouth. >
• CP: < Drops his ticket book, draws his weapon and aims it at the patron. &ht; Drop the fork, NOW!
• RP: < visibly shaken >Wrrrt?
• CP: You heard me. Drop the fork.
• RP: < drops the fork >
• CP: Now, place both hands on the table, and spit out that bite.
• RP: < follows the given instructions >
• CP: Pork. Very nice touch. How did you know I was Jewish?
• RP: I had no idea...
• CP: This entire business just escalated into a hate crime, buddy. You happy yet?
• RP: No. I didn't...
• CP: < calls for backup >
• RP: < sighs >
• CP: < while handcuffing the perpetrator > You have the right to the calories currently within your system; however, any food or organic matter expelled by your body may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have your stomach stapled at the facility of your choice. If your insurance will not pay for a private facility, one will be appointed to you by the state. Now stand up.
• RP: < sighs deeply and stands >
• CP: < briefly frisks the offender > What have we here?
• RP: < shrugs, while staring longingly at the food on his plate >
• CP: < pulls a breath mint from the perpetrator's pocket > Contraband! Are these sugar-free?
• RP: < gazes off into space, humming the theme from Brazil >