The Price of Being Tall

People may say being tall has its advantages, but I tend to disagree. Here are two examples to help prove my case.

-I was at the grocery store in the refrigerated section and this old lady asks me if I can help her get some yogurt because she could not reach it. Now, this is not the first time this has happened. I’ve been at Walgreens or CVS and have helped other shorter customers reach for things. I’m starting to think these convenience stores should start compensating me for all the hard work I whore out. Any way, I help the older woman with getting the yogurt and grab about three or four of them.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. Thank you!” she says.

One thank you would have been enough, the extra gratitude just made it uncomfortable. I then go back to my cart and resume shopping, assuming my nice deed has been completed. Not so fast. I then hear…

“I’m sorry, but could you get me some more?”

Really? This time I’m not as bubbly and I grab her a few more yogurts.

“I’m sorry, but can you get some more?”  

I get a few more.

“Actually, can you just give me all of them?”

I’m thinking what the hell lady? Are you planning for the Apocalypse to happen or something? The last time I checked yogurt is not like gold or oil. I literally spent a good few minutes grabbing all of the yogurts and ended up putting 30 in her cart. I strongly debated chucking the last one at her head, but decided against it.

For now on, I’m just going to put my knees in my shoes and walk around like a dwarf in public. 

Nobody would ask this guy to grab yogurt.

-Whenever I go to a movie or any other type of event,  I prefer to sit in the aisle seat. As you can tell from the previous entry, I’m a taller, strapping, quasi-young individual who prefers my leg space. I also might be a little claustrophobic and don’t like being crammed in between two people. So I went to go see a comedy show at The Groundlings with a friend and there was an usher there who sat us. The usher takes us to a row where the first five seats are available, including the aisle seat.

Politely, I ask the usher guy if I could please sit in the aisle seat.

“No. They’re not available,” he says.

I felt the response was a bit odd, but I obeyed what he said and sat in the middle of the row. I wait a few minutes, the show is about to start and the aisle seat is still available. My buddy and I decided to move down to the first two seats in the row. Literally, a few seconds later the usher walks in a few more people and I’m thinking this is going to be horribly awkward. The usher gives me this intense stink eye stare, but all I can do is look down in shame. The shame is comparable to how a dog feels after it has let his owner down by peeing on the brand new carpet.

I gotta admit the awkwardness of the interaction was not worth the aisle seat. Fortunately, the show starts and I can finally just sit and relax. About a minute later, I get a tap on the shoulder from the girl sitting behind me.

“Excuse me, but would you mind moving over so my friend can sit in the aisle seat in front of me?”

All I could think was. “Is this for real? Am I on some hidden camera show or something?

After the show, I walk out of the theater and I am stunned to see a familiar face. Who do I see? My good old flying buddy, Liza! (See my previous blog entry “Flying with Liza”)

I then made the fastest sprint to my car that has ever been done in history.       

H.A.K.A.S.