I have always been one tall mofo. I’m not freakishly tall, but at 5’8” I am considered above average for a girl. It was especially above average when I was younger. It’s like I’ve been 5’8” since shortly after I started walking. I know that may sound like an exaggeration, but while technically I started walking around age one, I didn’t really use it until the age when I needed to get more snacks and drinks to watch my shows and to accomplish this would require getting out of the couch and walking over to the kitchen. One major advantage of being tall, obviously aside from looking down on people (pffft!), is that kids/people don’t mess with you if you can clearly pick them up and put them in your pocket, or if they can just assume that you can. Secondly, being tall also allows you to always have a good view when in a concert, or like event. Also, you can….um…..there’s the….well, you can….being tall allows you to….hmmm I can’t really think of more advantages of being tall…*thinking some more*…
Disadvantages, however, are plenty. There’s having a hard time finding clothes that fit well, fear of falling down (the ground is further away. It is a longer fall), but more importantly good luck getting a try at the piñata when you are the tall kid in the party. You always end up at the end of the line, and there was always one problem child towards the middle of the line with anger issues who would destroy the piñata (and anything/anyone else on the way) with a couple hits. Needless to say, I stopped trying to get a turn by not getting in line anymore. This was sad and frustrating for me because piñata hitting isn’t just in my DNA, I am pretty sure it is what I was put on this earth for. Of course, I didn’t really get to hit many piñatas in my time, due to my height, but if dreams are indicative of what you are really like in your waking life, then I am most definitely awesome at it. Do you have any idea what deprivation of piñata action does to a person? I get these dreams, then I wake up crying and singing “Dale, dale dale. No pierdas el pino…” and hitting the wall with my pillow. There’s no worse disadvantage of being tall than that. There is however one more dangerous downside of being tall and that is accidentally kneeing little kids.
In the summer of 2005, the gang decided to take a four day weekend to Vegas. I had been to Vegas plenty of times as a kid with family, but this would be the first time I would be going as an “adult” (I use quotations on that because that is debatable). One of our days there we were out and about, walking…and walking…and walking, then walking some more around the strip to get to visit as many casinos as we could (this was the first time some people were experiencing Vegas). I’ve always liked the Luxor casino, so when we arrived to that one I was especially lost in awe, but apparently I wasn’t the only one.
While we walked around in the casino, I was admiring some of the cool art displayed…ok there was a piece of a naked women’s torso up on the wall and her juggs were huge and distracting and all I could think was “Nuh huh? No way those are real!” when suddenly I felt something bump my knee. Bumping my knee(s) into things wasn’t a rare occurrence, however, this felt different. This felt a lot warmer than a desk, or a chair, or another object. And also, as I found out seconds later, it was a lot louder than an object.
“Waaaaahhhhhh! Aahhhhhh!” I heard quickly directing my attention to where I had felt the bump.
“Holy shit!” I thought to myself then broke into uproarious laughter as I noticed a kid lying on the ground crying.
I had kneed a little kid, and what was worse, I was laughing my ass off about it. It wasn’t that I enjoyed doing so…although now that I think about it, it might’ve been a little of the young Y.C. who didn’t get to beat up piñatas that was enjoying it on some level. (*gasp* that is too evil, even for me). I imagine, to the kid’s point of view, this was a pretty scary thing to see this giant, who just kneed you to the ground, be laughing so hard she is crying now. I think I was mostly laughing because it just seemed funny to me. I think had I been shorter, I would’ve probably still bumped to the kid because I was distracted, yes, but the impact would’ve been less severe. Yes, I should’ve been more careful watching where I was going, but in my defense, how did that kid not see me? What was his excuse? Because I am pretty hard to miss in my size, and where the hell were the kid’s parents? I looked behind me, still laughing btw, and saw them a mile ahead of the kid looking back and then coming back to get him. I remember the mom giving me a face of disgust as though I was a bad person who came to Vegas to knee little kids. Oh yes, lady. I’m the bad one. You are lucky your kid wasn’t kidnapped letting him walk so far behind you like that in a crowded place where no one is to be trusted.
In conclusion, pros and cons aside, I still love being tall. I would choose it over average or short any day. Also, if I ever have kids, I will buy them a piñata every weekend. Heck, that sounds like a good idea. I should do it for myself. I have, after all, lots of catching up to do.