The other night I wound up at a sport’s bar watching a sport’s event. It was crowded and getting around required slowly churning through clumps of people. This is one of the many occasions where being compact-sized can be a blessing. I drank my beer, focused on one of the 17 TVs hanging from the ceiling and pretended to care about the team in orange.
Settling in and somewhat glazing over, I noticed a rather big dude trying to squeeze out of his spot at the bar. His buddy was perched on a stool nearby. He laughed and pointed, “You’re never gonna make it, man!”
I tried to help by giving him some space. I squeezed in tighter with the group of people I knew and eventually he was on his feet. His buddy was laughing the whole time.
The big guy looked my direction, “He’s making fun of me because I’m fat.”
“Hey, at least you’re not short like me,” I replied with an attempt at my own self-deprocating humor.
“That’s true,” the big guy responded, sizing me up. “You’re short and scrawny,” he confirmed as he wobbled and wiggled toward the men’s room.
I finished my beer and stealthy cut through the crowd with little disruption.
I’ll probably never see Mr. Big Stuff again. But if I do, I may pull up a chair, order a basket of cheese fries and see if he wants to debate the pros and cons of different-sized human beings.
In the meantime, have fun out there and try not to take up more space than you need.