Because I’m tall, when I’m on a crowded bus, I’ll describe to the short people around me the things they’re missing. They don’t always appreciate it. Maybe because I’m a stranger.
When I tell a woman that a man at the front, in a single seat by the window, just picked his nose, she scowls at me. I’m not sure why, so after a moment I ask “Did you hear me?” “Yes,” she says, “I don’t care,” and looks away. It’s pretty obvious she’s angry because she’s so much shorter than me. A whole foot, I’m sure.
Some people say I tell them about the things they can’t see not because I’m tall, but because I’m a jerk. But how could they know that? They’re not tall.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, making a face, pretending I see something truly awful at the front of the bus. “What?” the woman implores, “What is it?!?” I stare down at her for a moment, expressionless, then look out the window and say nothing.