By 8 a.m., a line of more than 300 very large men and women had formed behind them.
Gregg Wood, a 24-year-old Quizzo host from Northeast Philadelphia weighing in at 475 pounds, waited patiently, finishing off a cigarette. "I'm down from two packs a day to three-quarters of a pack," he said. "It's time to make a change."
Nearby, Joseph Brown, a 29-year-old, 550-pound disabled warehouse worker from Bristol, rested in a folding chair. "I took for granted what most kids do," he said. "The working out."
One woman scolded another for eating a Rice Krispies treat. "They taste just as stale whether they're fresh or old," she said.
"I'm hungry," her friend snapped, taking a big, resentful bite.
There were husbands and wives, cousins and siblings, mothers and daughters, friends and coworkers, and scores of single men and women, all hoping to spend half a year in a food and exercise reeducation camp outside Los Angeles.
The show, whose premise was initially scoffed at by critics who thought it puerile and destined for failure, has become one of NBC's golden geese, delivering larger (numerically speaking) audiences every season.
The appeal lies partially in watching 20 or so obese strangers balance on high wires and guess how many calories are in a taco and slog up mountain trails and cry and cry and throw up and cry some more as they are flogged into shape by personal trainers Jillian and Bob, who are widely believed to have been Roman slave drivers in their previous lives.
"We are looking for people who have hit rock bottom," said Paul Gordon, the casting director. "People who are extremely motivated and have great stories."
Ralph Brooks Sr., perhaps, number four in line. "I lost a brother to diabetes at 54 two years ago," said Brooks, who is diabetic, too.
