I first noticed it in high school.
My high school marching band used to practice on the parking lot directly outside the band room. The parking lot was painted with lines to match those on Oriole Field and each day during band class we would dutifully go outside and rehearse our routines for Friday night halftime shows.
Located directly adjacent to the band room door was Petersen Auditorium, our school's performance venue. The front entrance to the auditorium was a wall made completely of glass windows. These windows provided a shiny surface that acted as a giant mirror reflecting the entire band as we anxiously crowded around the band room door at the end of rehearsal. Apparently, we were all in a huge rush to put our instruments away and get to our next class.
I have a vivid memory of seeing my reflection in those windows as my classmates and I clamored to get back in the school. I remember this sea of teenagers, letter jackets, early 90's hair-dos, glasses, hats, and instruments. Above that mass of adolescent humanity was me. Head and shoulders above the rest. A skinny white kid carrying a trombone who was quite noticeably taller than EVERYONE around him. There I am. Literally feet taller than everyone else and just trying to fit in with the crowd like all teens do. Heck, like all people do.
I'm surrounded by my classmates and chatting with them. Sticking out of the top of the crowd like a buoy floating in this ocean of torsos. So much taller that I slouch my shoulders over in a desperate attempt to hear what my friends are saying around me.
I remember that reflection in the windows like it's my desktop background. It's an image that is easy for me to call upon when the memory is triggered. However, I don't often think of it. In fact, I rarely notice my height. Actually, that's not true. I never notice it. I mean, I know I'm tall, but, it never strikes me as odd that I am. Even when I'm constantly ducking or hitting my head on things. Even when I hear comments like:
"Wow! You are really tall!"
"Do you play basketball?"
"It's really not fair how tall you are."
"Watch your head!"
"How's the weather up there?"
Even with all of that background noise, it never really hits me that I'm abnormally tall. As it turns out, though: I am a huge person. I am regularly 8 - 12 inches taller than everyone I meet. I duck under doorways, light fixtures, street signs, store awnings, and ceilings. Every time I walk into a restaurant, movie theatre, grocery store, shopping mall, or any other public place people stare. I mean S T A R E. Many don't even try to hide it. I've literally stopped traffic before (that's another story).
My point is, I became acutely aware of my extreme tallness in Key West last week. I was walking on the sidewalk towards a local sushi joint. I ducked under a tree branch, waited for the crosswalk sign to change, evaded a street sign, and sidestepped an awning. Continuing down the street I avoided some wind chimes and dodged (what I judged to be) a low-hanging "Key Lime Pie Factory" marquee. I noticed that on the other side of the street a woman had stopped in her tracks and was watching me negotiate this treacherous obstacle course known as Duval Street. She was staring at me, mouth open, and pointing at me while tugging at her companions sleeve.
Here's the thing: there is no practical purpose for being this tall. It's not like it's a really attractive physical feature. In fact, after people get past the "OMG" stage, I'm more of a oddity than anything. There is such a thing as too tall and I'm pretty sure I'm it. Women say height is an attractive feature, but, they don't mean THIS tall. They just want someone who will make them feel somewhat feminine. Not someone who induces remarks of how the circus must be in town.
I don't even have an athletic build. No muscles to speak of, really. I don't have my brother's body builder physique, so, I don't even really look like a basketball player. People really have no idea what top physical athletes look like, so, when they see my uncommon height they just assume that I play. I mean, play professionally. I do play ball, but, just recreationally. I'm actually a better than average basketball player. But, most people just go to the default of, "What other possible purpose would one have in life being that tall?"
People assume that everything is easier for me because I'm this tall. Getting items down from high shelves, playing trombone (long arms, you see), palming a basketball, dunking a basketball, golf, running, and walking. Work. Play. Sex. It all must be so easy for me being this tall. I constantly have people saying, "I wish I had your height" to me all the time. I mean, it's easy for me to get into the top bunk, right? "All you have to do is just…step in."
Doesn't bode well for ships either. I can tell everyone that we have 7 foot ceilings onboard. I know this because I can feel my hair scraping the ceiling whenever I walk around.
So, occasionally, I get reminded of just how tall I am. Okay, I get reminded by others much more than that, but, I actually think about it a lot less than others do. People think it's a blessing, but, this much height is not a blessing. 6'3" is about as tall as you want to be, trust me. Too much more than that and you will just become the object of raised expectations and wasted opportunity. "You should be in the NBA." Anything even close to my height and people think you're a pro wrestler or something.
