TALL
Daily Telegraph - October 2006
Short people are full of complaints: if it's not that they can't reach the top
shelf then it's that they can't see at rock concerts or are not allowed to ride
the Gravitron. To them, I say, count your lucky stars for the deprivations of
shortness are nothing compared to the infinite horrors of tallness.
At 6'3'', I'm not freakishly tall, but tall enough to be the first to get punched
in the face by some guy in the pub who has decided that because I'm tall I must
be hard - a persistent myth easily debunked by a cursory inspection of my extensive
Kate Bush collection.
Contrary to popular opinion, tall people have it tough. We live in a world of
perpetually cold feet poking from inadequate beds, our lives ruled by a tyranny
of door lintels and crystal chandeliers. Any dignity we might hope to retain
is lost the moment we try to get in the back seat of a two-door car.
Unlike the very short, the very tall are told to be grateful for their lot.
Yet most people take for granted the fact that the world was built in days when
people who were six-foot tall were put in cages and taken on tour.
This week on an excruciating international flight I spent half my time deflecting
accusations of sexual harassment levelled by the woman in front of me because
my feet kept interfering with hers. When I changed position and fell asleep
with my knees in the aisle the steward came along and bashed them with his trolley.
It was his way of saying: “Back in your cage, giraffe man.”
Short people are full of resentment for the tall. They think we sit in front
of them in cinemas just to be annoying and walk around lording over everyone,
revelling in our tallness and cracking our skulls on ceiling beams just to show
off. They don't appreciate our height is a burden or understand that we are
often oblivious to it. After all - to paraphrase what has been noted of certain
ethnic groups - everyone looks short to us.
On the rare occasion that I do speak to somebody taller then me the novelty
of having to look up tends to be tempered by the excitement of meeting the Harlem
Globetrotters.
I propose that tallness be classified as a type of disability. After all, fat
people are now demanding all sorts of special recognition for their plight,
from bigger aeroplane seats to free stomach banding operations. Why shouldn't
I get head bandages on Medicare or a Giant Shoe Allowance?
The tall need to unionise. We should no longer spend our lives accommodating
others. Why can't short people bring little boxes to stand on at cocktail parties?
Why can't we be provided with clothing outlets stocking pants that don't make
us look like Danny Zuko from Grease? From this day forward I'm no longer tall,
I'm vertically other-abled.
© Brendan Shanahan 2008