Dear normal-sized human beings of the world,
If you are a person of regular stature and find yourself seated in the exit row of an airplane, please be cognizant of others who are boarding the plane. For you, this exit row seat is a lucky blessing of excess legroom. However, for others, an exit row seat is a necessity.
At seven feet tall, I have great difficulty fitting in a standard airplane seat. If you witness me ducking my way through the aisle, evading each exit sign and television screen, it would be much appreciated if you would forfeit your exit row seat to a human being that NEEDS that extra legroom. Don’t look at me wide-eyed, ask me how tall I am[i], and then remain swinging your little feet while sitting in the most desirable coach-class seat on the aircraft. By remaining in the exit row, you are knowingly subjecting giants like me to hours of air-traveling torture. My legs will have no choice but to flood into the aisle, creating an obstacle for the flight attendants should I somehow fall asleep.
Furthermore, my knees will be indented from pressing so hard against the seat in front of me for the duration of the flight. For you regular-sized persons, this may be a minor inconvenience, but I rely on my knees to earn a living. After all, I’m a basketball player. What else would I do for a living? (I’m seven feet tall, for crying outloud!)
I know what you’re thinking: “Shouldn’t this ‘basketball player’ be able to afford the extra legroom available in first class?” Valid point. I guess it might be my own fault for not making it to the NBA despite my 7,’ 250 lb frame and thus, subjecting myself to economy class discomfort. But, my dedication to maintaining an alternative/indie lifestyle prevents me from allowing myself to play in the NBA. I totally could be an NBA player, but that league is way too mainstream for me. I don’t want to be a “sell-out.” I prefer to keep it real by playing ball in obscure Eastern European countries. At least, this is the logic I prefer to use when attempting to make sense of my basketball career.
Now, you may be thinking, “I consider myself a pretty large person. How do I know if I am worthy of an exit row seat?” To aid in your self-size-classification, I have compiled the following questions:
1. Do you know what it feels like to walk into a clothing store and purchase a pair of jeans that fit you?[ii]
2. Have you successfully enjoyed a ride on Space Mountain with your head still attached to your neck upon completion?
3. Are you able to ride a stationary bike without banging your knees on the handlebars?
If you answered, “yes” to questions 1-3, then I regret to inform you that you do not qualify for mandatory exit row seating.
If you answered, “no” to these questions then please proceed to questions 4-11 for further classification. At this point, you are at the very least eligible for a standard aisle seat:
4. At least one time per day, every single day, for the past five years straight, have you been stopped by a stranger who wants to know how tall you are or if you are a basketball player?
5. Do you automatically stand toward the rear of a concert venue to avoid people throwing ice cubes at the back of your head, because you are obstructing their non-punctual asses from being able to see the show?
6. Have you ever bumped your head on a door frame or exit sign while walking next to a girl (or boy) you had a crush on, subsequently throwing you into a fit of profanities preventing any future advancements with said girl (or boy)?
7. Do your feet hang off the end of your bed when you sleep (assuming you don’t sleep curled up in a fetal position after crying yourself into an “emo” slumber)?
8. When you shower in a hotel, is the showerhead typically level with your belly button as opposed to the top of your head?
9. Are you able to stand in the “deep end” of a pool?
10. In a crowded area, have you ever accidentally elbowed someone in the face while walking with your arms by your side?
11. Do you know what it feels like to get hit in the head by a ceiling fan?
If you answered, “yes” to questions 4-11, then you are, in fact, tall enough to be guaranteed exit row comfort. If you answered “no” to one or more of questions 4-11 then your exit row eligibility is questionable. You still qualify for a standard aisle seat, but on certain occasions you will be required to surrender your exit row luxury to a certified behemoth.
So, on behalf of all of my fellow abnormally tall freaks, I ask for a little sympathy and common decency when you see someone my size making his or (God forbid) her way down the aisle of an aircraft. Think about the feeling you had the last time you bought a pair of pants from your favorite store, and realize that we freaks haven’t felt that simple joy. Help us fill that void by giving up your spacious seat.
Thank You,
Luke Bonner
Seven-footer[iii]
[i] Don’t disagree with me when I tell you my height. Why would I lie about being 7 ft. tall? When has being a 7-foot white guy EVER been cool?
[ii] I haven’t purchased a pair of pants from a store since I was 12 years old. And, that doesn’t count, because my mom got me Wranglers rather than the JNCO’s I wanted.
[iii] Okay, I’m actually 6’11 ½” with shoes on…
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Past work on FlipCollective.com.
Luke, Just read your post.
I took my first airplane ride this past Thanksgiving to New Mexico from Ohio, and it was the most unpleasant experience of my life. A few inches taller than you, I kind of figured that I would need to have a special seat assignment; to my shock the only real option I had was booking first class, was well beyond my pay grade, the second option was an emergency exit, and that was only an option if they were available. I managed which to get a emergency row seat in the front half of the plan which offered very little relief you as probably well know .
anyway just wanted to say I GET IT!!