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3/9/08
Through my adult years of traveling I’ve always noticed a tendency of height challenged men flying the planes. Call it Short Stature-Big Bird syndrome if you like. Perfectly understandable to me: you’ve always been the little guy so you get back at “them” by flying jumbo jets.
Well, I’ve traveled quite a few times with my children and had mentioned this observation to them. My daughters especially laughed at me, said I was imagining it and then would further point out each tall pilot as we made our way through the terminals.
So of course today they were not with me as I traveled my way back to Montana from Boston. Last minute travel arrangements dictated especially long layovers and as I didn’t care to get a book or a newspaper I spent hours watching the people cruise by. And among them were dozens and dozens of pilots, a clear majority belonging to the five foot seven and under crowd. Miniature men marched by in their pilot caps and black trench coats with their little roller bags trailing behind them. Now I notice these men not just because I’d love to prove my own theory, but because I have an especially fond spot for shorter men. I don’t know why that is but it may be rooted in the fact that my dad was six two and a half and has always represented to me what NOT to look for in a man.
So as I’ve spent this long day traveling back from what can only be described as a monumental week of family history, I’ve smiled many times as I spied another shorty strolling by.
Through my adult years of traveling I’ve always noticed a tendency of height challenged men flying the planes. Call it Short Stature-Big Bird syndrome if you like. Perfectly understandable to me: you’ve always been the little guy so you get back at “them” by flying jumbo jets.
Well, I’ve traveled quite a few times with my children and had mentioned this observation to them. My daughters especially laughed at me, said I was imagining it and then would further point out each tall pilot as we made our way through the terminals.
So of course today they were not with me as I traveled my way back to Montana from Boston. Last minute travel arrangements dictated especially long layovers and as I didn’t care to get a book or a newspaper I spent hours watching the people cruise by. And among them were dozens and dozens of pilots, a clear majority belonging to the five foot seven and under crowd. Miniature men marched by in their pilot caps and black trench coats with their little roller bags trailing behind them. Now I notice these men not just because I’d love to prove my own theory, but because I have an especially fond spot for shorter men. I don’t know why that is but it may be rooted in the fact that my dad was six two and a half and has always represented to me what NOT to look for in a man.
So as I’ve spent this long day traveling back from what can only be described as a monumental week of family history, I’ve smiled many times as I spied another shorty strolling by.