Tallest man at the Tallest Man On Earth concert: A public apology from the tall guy standing in front of you
I’m sorry. I’m tall. Honestly, I’m not even that tall. I’m 6’2”. That’s two inches above what I have been told is “normal” for a man. In an office, or a restaurant I don’t necessarily feel tall.
But at a concert I feel like a giant.
When I’m standing in the pit my height casts a shadow. I’ve always got room because no one wants to stand within two feet of me. They came to see the artist, not that weird ink stain on my left shoulder that got there when I accidentally left my pen in the wash and it ended up leaving a stain in the armpit of this shirt. But it’s like a one-of-a-kind shirt, so that outweighs the fact that it has a couple little ink stains, right?
Anyway, I feel guilt. If I had it my way we would all line up according to height at the show. Girlfriends barely scraping five feet would all be up front, with uninhibited views as us gangly goons stood more to the back so that everyone could fairly see. I want that.
But the pit of a concert is not well-reasoned or fair. It’s a lawless hell hole where elbow jabbing and toe stepping is not only tolerated, it’s encouraged.
So, girl behind me that couldn’t see the Tallest Man On Earth concert because I was standing in the third row, and towering over everyone — I am a fan, too. I’m sorry that you couldn’t get in front of me because a guy in front of you at the bar got his debit card declined and had to call his friend over to borrow cash.
I really am sorry. I don’t want to block your view of the concert, but I was born this way. And as long as pits retain their anarchy, this is where I will be. Feeling guilty about standing in front of short people and comfortably viewing every band I see.