Pittying Short Guys

While getting lunch yesterday at the nearby crack house, aka 5 Guys, I was struck by a group of guys in shirts and ties all carrying the grease soaked signature brown paper bags. I started singing one of these things was not like the other because there was this short guy no taller than 5'3" pulling up the rear. My co-workers commented that the poor guy will never get a real girl because he is so short. UM...HELLO - what am I? Standing short at 5'0" and proud, I think I am quite a catch.

I had to remind them that when I was the best man in a wedding, yes, you read right, best man, but that's for another day, the groom stood a tall 5'5" and the bride - wait for it - 5'10". It was classic watching her damn near bend in half to kiss him when they were pronounced husband and giant, eh em, wife.

A typical morning

Imagine this. A hot 90+ morning with 100% humidity. I am a five minute walk to metro so by 8:35am I am already sticky and fighting the morning frizz. Once I make it to the metro platform, I am met with even thicker air than outside. Signs are posted that say something like please accept our apologies. The air conditioning unit isn't working on the platform. We regret any inconvenience. Oh well thanks for the regrets. How about just fix the ac? Novel idea, I know, but hey, it's only the height of summer in Washington, what's the rush.

So the platform is now jammed packed, making the air even harder to breathe. The train pulls to the station and it looks as if it will be the last train out of dodge. Standing room only of course. Getting on this thing is going to be a miracle, aided only by strategically picking where to stand so the doors open right in front of me. I manage to make it on the train, pushing my way to any open space I can find. Now, here's where my height is a serious handicap. I cannot reach the top bars so I am forced to find a pole or seat with a handle for support. I manage to wedge myself in front of this woman with an extraordinarily large purse. She keeps shifting and smacking me in the back with it. I am ready to throw down, but probably not a wise move since I can hardly get any momentum for a punch since I am sandwiched between a super tall guy and a girl in a sundress. Why is this position important you ask? Well, just imagine being at armpit level after people truck to the metro, carrying purses, gym bags and whatever else causes bulk on a crowded train. They, like me, are frizzy and sweaty without the benefit of working out. The ac on the train is about as strong as one of those hand held fans you get in Disney World, you know the ones that are battery operated and can even squirt water. So yes, I am breathing in the stench of sweaty arm pits and perfume mixed together; I have no way to get fresh air. Stuck at arm pit level in hell. 20 minutes until my destination...