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Karen Early is a comedian and human being living in Austin, TX. She performs and organizes the weekly Megaphone Show on Saturdays at the New Movement Theater. Her column Early to the Party appears semimonthly on Pop Press International.
Open Letter to the Tallest Man in the Entire Concert Venue Standing Directly in Front of Me
Dear Tallest Man Here,
My life has been a constant struggle, which has culminated in this very moment right here. You see I am a small, 5’ tall woman. I say woman because I am indeed a grown woman. This is as tall as I am ever going to get. My mother and I used to laugh and joke about how I would surpass all of her short relatives in height, including my 4’10” grandmother. She hoped I would top out around 5’5” or so and why not? My father is a tall man. My brother is a respectable height. Alas, no. When my mother sees me she frowns as she looks directly over the top of my head. Sometimes I joke, “I’m 5’1” on a good day!” Everyone chuckles as I weep inwardly.
But how could you know that?! You could not possibly guess my inner turmoil as you obnoxiously bob your head along with the music. Also, could you stop that? It is already hard to see without you jiggling every which way. If I crane my neck to the right you sway to the right. I exasperatedly crane my neck to the left, and you sway to the left. I must ask, is there some telekinetic energy binding our bodies?
You, sir, appear to be 6’2” or some insane height that I can only guess to be the same height as a North American grizzly bear standing on its hind legs. Although, I will admit, it is hard to guesstimate height from such a low vantage point. Nonetheless, you have chosen to stand directly in the middle of the crowd at a concert I personally have paid a lot of money to see. And certainly, it is your prerogative to stand directly in the middle of this very crowded venue. You too, I assume, paid money to see this concert. So, I will assume we are equals. But for the love of god have some humanity! Have mercy on this poor, short soul.
Stand at the front if you must, but perhaps stage right or stage left could work as serviceable options. Hey, look over there! A whole group of cute girls taking selfies that appear too drunk to watch the band. Perhaps they’d like you to pose in a photo with them. You could stay over there and talk to them. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get a number. You could meet your future wife tonight! The openers are done, and I think my favorite band is playing on stage, but I have no way to confirm as you have been standing, as tall as a redwood tree, immediately in front of me this entire time.
I finally work up the nerve to shout, “Can we switch places?!” My insignificant voice is drowned by the blare of the band and the roar of the crowd’s chatter, including your almost equally enormous friend in his ridiculous sleeveless shirt and flat-bill baseball cap. You can’t even locate the source of the sound. “No, it’s me talking behind you! Hello? Stop looking every which way! It’s me! Down here!”
I think I need another beer.
