A few years ago I attended a They Might Be Giants gig in central London; it was a good evening with lots of people but one little detail annoyed me. I remember it to this day. I queued for ages, I was front and near centre of the stage, and some German student-types came up behind me in the crowd, and the conversation went a little like this:
- Them: Aren’t you a little tall to be at the front of the stage?
- Me, brightly, having dealt with this sort of thing before: Yes, I’ve always been this tall!
- Them: No, I mean, you’re in front of the stage.
- Me: Yes! Great, isn’t it?
- Them: No, but… [grumble] …
Oh yeah, I got the actual subtextual message – you’re too tall, you’re not normal, we can’t see, we want to stand where you are standing – but I didn’t then, and really don’t now care.
Most people don’t know what it’s like to be tall – and before you think I’m whining, I’m not greatly complaining about my height. In fact I don’t consider myself to be terribly tall, I know many people as tall or much taller than I – William, or Derrick for instance – and if I visit Amsterdam it’s an unreal sensation to be literally faced with crowds of people.
But I considered the TMBG gig to be payback – for all the assumptions of how much more convenient it must be to be tall, how ducking under doorways must be reflexive and easy, how it mustn’t be a bother to keep walking into lampshades and occasionally crack lightbulbs, cutting your scalp open on Artex ceilings, prowling around six-foot-two clearance London restaurant basements looking for the loo whilst stooped-over so you have to twist your neck sideways to read the signage and ensure you’re not about to walk into the ladies’ loo; not fitting in cars, not being able to buy shirts to fit – all that must be trivial compared to the upside, right?
Well, no it isn’t. Not totally. At best it’s a break-even.
There are upsides, yes – not needing a stepladder most of the time, being able to use all the shelving in my house, being able to see the top of the fridge and clean it, being able to see distant object unemcumbered by crowds… That’s good.
Actually my experience is that finding people amongst a crowd is really hard, since the faces tend to blend together from a low angle; this is a counterpart to the tragedy that if you are tall then your primary view of your girlfriend or boyfriend will likely forever be the parting in their hair.
I try to use my height for a little good; about once a month I’m prodded by some granny or pram-pushing mother in the supermarket, and asked to retreive something off a high shelf. I don’t grumble for more than comedic value about being invited to friends’ houses for tea, and incidentally being asked to change the lightbulb in their stairwell. And I’m pretty happy to help with painting ceilings so long as there is tea and scones.
And, counting my blessings, at least I’m not this guy.
So: to the German girl on the BA Munich-to-Heathrow flight last night, who asked if I could please use my long arms to retreive her camera which had slid to the back of the overhead lockers, I’d like to expand slightly upon what I said as I handed it to her:
You’re welcome. Honestly. Truly. But in return please don’t ever get annoyed if ever a tall person is blocking your line of vision at a concert. We’re here to help, and we deserve the occaisonal break.
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