blog.whybird.net

Height Challenged.

I am tall. Not so tall that I have to have to duck to go through a door, but at 190cm, which is a little over 6’2, most people look up to me, at least in the literal sense.

You may think this is an advantage, and yes it is nice to be able to change a light bulb without a ladder, but it’s not all up and up, you know. Let me tell you about a few downsides that you may not have considered. Who do you think always gets the spider webs in the face that are left by everyone else, for a start? But let’s just talk about transport.

First, cars. Leg room is what most people think of, because of the comical look of a tall person needing to keep their knees apart just to see forward. Holden Astras, for example, are a really good Aussie car – and bigger than most in their class – but did you know that no matter how far forward the front seats are, the back seat of a Holden Astra is about 2 cm too close to the roof for me to sit with a straight neck? Just think about that for any journey of more than 5 minutes. The front seat is better, but not as much as you think. As the hairs on the top of my head gently brush the ceiling, it feels like a bunch of those spiders from the webs I walked through crawling about on my skull. Heaven help me if we hit a decent pot hole, because the new bump that will thereby form on the top of my head may well just be the tipping point!

Well, I can avoid all headroom problems by taking the bus. I am seated in one as I type, in fact. This particular model of bus is very popular in Brisbane, but let me tell you the tall but true tale of the first time I encountered it:

First, I try my favourite bus seat, the front-most one, but with knees rammed against the top of the guard rail, and toes poking out of the bottom into the path of the automatic door, clearly a rethink is required.

There are three uncomfortable-looking, low to the ground fold-out seats on each side near the front, facing the aisle – possible, as long as I don’t mind facing sideways and having to pull my feet in every time someone needs to get off. Beyond that, there are some seats with a rail in front that are either some kind of cruel joke, or specially made for war veterans and victims of major industrial accidents who happen to not have any actual legs at all, yet somehow do not require a wheelchair.

Beyond this, there are 8 rows of seat pairs which seem to be made for normal humans. That’s fine, and I can use these in a pinch. I can even face directly forward on the one that is up a slight slope from the one in front of it, so long as the person in front of me doesn’t notice my feet sticking out from under them.

Aha! The back of the bus, naughtiest and most roller-coaster-like of the seats. This, thinks I, could be actually sort of fun. I can sit in the middle and stretch my legs down the aisle in front of me, and so long as no-one complains that I am effectively blocking off access to 4 seats in addition to the one I am actually sitting on, all will be peace and comfort.

And so, on this my first encounter with this bus type, with this analysis in place, I stride happily to the back, confident of a thrilling ride, a view of the backs of the heads of the other passengers (except the sideways sitting ones), and knees that will still function when I stand up again. I throw myself cheerfully into the seat, ready to make a splendid and indolent pleasure from this necessity.

Despite the evidence all around me, it seems I have missed the fact that this particular bus must have been designed by an angry genius sadist who must have been teased as a child by taller people and decided to take revenge by specially arranging the interior fitout of busses. Suddenly, however, it hits me. I mean literally, it hits me – BAM! – quite firmly in the back of the head: a strange bulkhead that protrudes from the otherwise smooth rear wall of the bus, cunningly camouflaged in a nondescript grey that blends in with the rest of the wall, and placed at just the right height to prevent me from ever sitting comfortably there.

Consider the evil genius of this design: First, busses are the last place you think of worrying about head room. Second, placing the trap right at the back of the bus maximizes the chances of not one, but two things simultaneously striking: one is the weary flop of a worker at the end of the day into it, and two is the momentum of the driver having to start the bus forward. Both will maximize the impact. As a further note of genius, the bulkhead is not actually hard enough for an actual injury, thereby ensuring that it won’t ever get removed, remaining to trap another poor unsuspecting spider-web collector. It wouldn’t surprise me if watching this phenomenon might be the real reason they have those cameras installed, actually.

Now, please excuse me – we’re coming to a stop, and I have to pull my feet in to let people past. Don’t worry, I’ll still be able to see so long as I keep my knees apart, but I have discovered that using my laptop is much more difficult without a lap.