Being Lanky

In Lost in Translation, there’s a scene where Bill Murray is stood in a lift with a bunch of Japanese people and they’re all comically shorter than him. There’s no punchline, but the joke comes from Bill Murray’s deadpan expression. Well maybe that scene is a bit clumsy (There are plenty of Japanese people who object to that film on racial stereotype grounds) but that does actually happen. I am about a foot taller than most people here. This has several effects:

1.    I bang my head a lot. A lot. Seriously, this will happen about once a week. It’s often very painful. I’ve lost count of the number of times that I have actually scratched or banged my head to the extent that blood has been involved.

2.    I’m near the maximum height restriction for theme park rides. At DisneySea, they made me stand up against the maximum height sign to check that I wasn’t too tall for the Indiana Jones ride.

3.    Little kids are transfixed by me. Occasionally a kid will just get utterly overwhelmed by my massiveness. They will stare, wander away from their mother or father, mouth hanging open. Sometimes they are slightly scared, whilst also being unable to stop looking. At this point, the parent will usually notice and, instead of telling them to look away, will join in the staring until the three of us are looking directly at each other in an endless cycle.

4.    It’s an icebreaker with my students. Every once in a while, a student will walk up to me and, apropos of nothing, say “Ben Senseii….you are very tall”.

5.    It’s also a barrier between me and my students. Being tall makes me that much scarier and more intimidating.

6.    People want to know just how tall I am. The most common question I’ve been asked since coming to Japan is “How tall are you?”. I’m 190cm tall. This information never fails to elicit a satisfying “Eeee?!”.

7.    I look ridiculous when doing sport. This was also true when in the UK. But I’m even more conscious of it here. This is not helped by many Japanese people being the model of healthy, properly dressed athletes whereas I am a lanky, panting Englishman with bad skin and a growing waistline.

8.    People will approach me in bars. Sometimes a horrendously drunk group of men will come forward to me to ask how tall I am. Usually this occurs as they are leaving the bar. They always seem pleased with the response. For some reason, this usually makes me happy, as I like the idea that their memory of the evening will include “We saw this really tall American-he was, like, over 190cm tall!”.

9.    I haven’t sat comfortably on a bus for 8 months. Sad but true.