Ask me about the horns on my shoulder. #TallPeopleProblems

Last week I wrote about airplanes, this week I want to talk about hangers. Hangers, not hangars. Although closely related, somewhere down the line hangers drew the short end of the stick and evolved into this instead of this. Evolution’s a snitch.

It's not pink, it's salmon.

So right now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I opened up this post with a lame joke and a homonym – you’re probably starting to think that I’m finally running low on #TallPeopleProblems. Rest easy, fellow sapiens, as that is not the case! Hangers cause serious issues to tall people and the shirts we wear. Seriously.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year in kindergarten, when I had to start wearing XXL t-shirts and sweaters, that I encountered my first hanger catastrophe. I was in the business of looking fresher than spring rolls at the time and hung my clothes in my closet to prevent unsightly creases caused by folding my shirts. Imagine my dismay when I threw my wrinkle-free, cotton-T, helluva-good-looking shirt over my head to discover what looked like the silhouettes of God and Satan chilling on my shoulder.

The similarities between Kronk and I are uncanny.

Naturally, I was appalled upon seeing this ghastly sight, and tore the shirt off with all the ferocity of a pre-teen hulk. When I looked closer, I discovered the culprit to be the hanger I was using. The problem with XXL shirts is that, while they are generally long enough to prevent an exposed belly button, they’re also wider in the shoulder region, causing the ends of the hanger to stretch out the area of the shirt between the collar and the shoulder seam. Since this tragic event, my life and treatment of my clothes has been revolutionized. Instead of hanging up my clothes, you can bet that all of my short sleeve T’s get the trifold treatment.

Help! I may or may not be running low on ideas! If you’ve got a suggestion for me from past experiences leave a comment below! 

It sure looked a lot bigger from the outside. #TallPeopleProblems

This weekend I went for a little plane ride. My spirits soared upon seeing that plane – it looked gargantuan!... from the outside. As soon as I walked inside, I realized what I was actually flying in: a toy. In less than three steps I found myself crouched over more severely than Gollum from Lord of the Rings.

Me, walking through the plane. See the resemblance? (BTW, I’m the one on the LEFT…)

What’s worse is the fact that there is an abundance of unnecessary obstacles on the ceiling. Two, in fact. They’re disguised as “EXIT” signs but stick out exactly four inches from the already low ceiling further narrowing the tube that I already have trouble squeezing through.

This bad boy nearly took off my forehead. I’m still sporting a horn from where we made contact.

As I shimmy my way down to my seat (the very last one on the plane – 18A) I looked for relief in the form of a chair… boy was I wrong. This is another person tall people face in the world (see April 7). As soon as I sit down I realize I’m in for an uncomfortable ride.

This is the amount of headroom I had as soon as I sat down. Awesome.

Airplanes aren’t notoriously known for being a tall person’s friend. They are a collection numerous of the #TallPeopleProblems that I’ve listed during the last few weeks, neatly packed inside a metal tube. Taking into account Murphy’s Law that anything that can go wrong will go wrong, you can rest assured that you will hit your head, knees and shins on every exit sign, armrest and seat that you pass. You should also be prepared for the five-foot, six-inch, balding man with the worst combover in the world, sitting in front of you to recline his chair back as far as possible as soon as sitting down. For a tall person, buying a plane ticket is like paying the NFL to be their practice dummy for a couple of hours, it’s just going to lead to countless bruises and a thinner wallet.

Alas, the things tall people have to go to just to overpay for mediocre food. If anything makes up for the expensive ride in a claustrophobic’s nightmare, it’s a $14 burger at the food court.

That’s all folks! Tune in next Sunday for my next post. Leave me a comment letting me know what you think and/or telling me a story about how you may relate! Looking forward to hearing from you. Thanks for reading!