Not many people know this (except my audience- Mom, Dad, hey whats up), but Center here is a little on the short side.
Case in point: A friend called the house the other day, looking for me, and asked my Brand Spankin New Roomate for the "wee one", who then gave me the phone without one word beyond that initial "hello?" and caused my friend to laugh and laugh and laugh with me going "what?" and no explanation.
Then again, this was after New Roomie put the drinking glasses on the third shelf in the cupboard and watched me use a wooden spoon to finagle them down ( I have pride). The third shelf is SO reserved for non-essential kitchen items. I gave her a stern talking to.
In related news, I dated a "short guy" once, and he had an inch or two on me. Even then, he still had a case of "little man syndrome". (LMS= "I'm angry and moody all the time. Its because I'm short. I will never admit this out loud. I will, however, talk a LOT about my sexual prowess and get in fights when I am drunk. I might also shit all over you and your opinions, not because I actually don't agree with them, but because I'm short and a man and this makes me angry.")
However, this weekend, I experienced a height phenonmenon unlike any other.
While kickin it hardcore at the Donnas concert, I let a punk rock couple move in front of me so they could see better. Did I do it because the guy was wearing Elvis Costello glasses, a Queers hoodie, a leather jacket, and black jeans a la 1982 with absolutely no shame? Did I do it because his girlfriend had bushy eyebrows, the ultimate "fuck you" to gender norms with none of the damned stupid "i'm a guy wearing a skirt" kinda lameness? (oh yeah, bushy eyebrows. Its a small detail, but important).
Even those reasons, good enough in themselves, do not explain my almost saintly act of concert-behavior, stepping back to let someone else be that much closer to the rock goddesses on stage.
I let them push in front of me because those two darling people were actually shorter than me. I could see over them with ease! I could see the tops of their heads! It was a marvelous, wonderful, magical moment when they arrived and I realized I had no trouble viewing the stage at all. How I loved them! Perhaps, they came to my shoulders, or maybe just under my chin. Either way, I wasn't staring into someone's back, or up and in between heads, my neck strained, to glimpse chicks with guitars. Yeah, there were taller people ahead of us, but the shorties evened it out by giving me enough space between myself and the stage where I actually had a decent view.
In my punk and booze infused good time, I wandered through a story of their romance. Imagined how they met at a party over the keg-- their two little heads poking up to see each other, her on tip-toes to pump the keg, him taking the one with too much foam like a true gentleman...
And then, in the holy moment when the Donnas took the stage, the two of them ruined everything when they betrayed me, took my act of good will and stomped on it like a couple of EMO listeners, by starting this weird form of PDA that just made everything horrible. It wasn't really PDA, and it wasn't not PDA. It defies definition.
There really are no acronyms for what they did, but I will try to explain--
Imagine-- two little bodies, two little sets of little hands, two little heads, doing what I can only describe as "The Utterly Insane Act of Napping on Each Other while Standing Up at a Punk Show and Occasionally Waking up to Make Out and Hopefully Nothing Else, but Positions were Changed and Hands were Moving", or TUIANEOSUPSOWMOHNEPCHM.
I can't talk about it any more than that. Its too much.
And in those two, two and half minutes of the first song, I realized one thing which really sucks about being tall. Yeah, you can buy pants anywhere and never know about the secret joy of heming tape, but in the event another short couple ever EVER stands in front of me again, I will know the horrible truth-- being taller means you can SEE EVERYTHING.
Thank god for my short gene (I have uncles shorter than me), and all this time, I had no idea how lucky I have been all my life. Because a view like that can really only be achieved around normal heights by those who are freakishly tall. There, at that concert, with those two short punks, I was that person.
Everything I have said is completly true. You can ask the Other Half because she was there and she is maybe 2 inches taller than me, but I was wearing high heeled boots so we were pretty even that night. She is just as emotionally scarred as I am.