Super Tall Guy

Posted: November 18, 2010 in Dan Meets Celebrities, Gigs

What makes a man a hero? I reckon if you save a person’s life, you’re officially a hero. There’s Cadbury’s miniature heroes, but I have a hard time believing that every piece of chocolate in those boxes has pulled someone from a burning building.  

I wouldn’t consider myself a hero, but I’ve been called ‘a legend’ several times. Are legends better than heroes? They must be. I mean, heroes turn into legends over time. Having said that, legends turn into myths; and myths are pretty rubbish. I wouldn’t like being mythical, like Narcissus or a creature with more than 7 eyes; but I wouldn’t mind being a legend, like Adrian Chiles. Legends are probably the optimal level of notability, and I have been called one so many times, I must be one.

I belong with the best. Seated at a banquet for legends. Me, Adrian, , Mother Theresa, Captain Caveman, Morgan Freeman, the guy inside the original R2-D2, Bryan Robson, Dr Zoidberg from Futurama, Richard Ayeoade and Neil Buchanan, all enjoying a lovely Puerco Pibil cooked by internationally renowned (for something surprising) chef Dave.

I’ve noticed that a fellow legend is performing live in Wolverhampton. As legends gravitate towards each other (Will Smith and Charlize Theron), I naturally went along. It’s good to support members of The Brethren so I buy an official t-shirt.

The support band are pretty good. I’ve never grooved so much to a support band! And never in such a confined space. I’m dancing like an amoeba glued to a penny glued to the floor throughout their set. This gig is rammed! Normally a large gap appears behind me. People don’t want to stand behind the biggest guy in the room.

I’m used to people commenting on my height. I naturally stand at the back of photographs – I know my place. The man behind me thinks he knows my place better than I.

“Excuse me mate, could you let these two girls go in front of you?”

One of the girls has a headband. She’s cute. The other girl has looked away out of embarrassment. Don’t get me wrong, I sympathise with their plight. The first time I went to a gig I somehow stood directly behind the one guy in the room as big as me. I couldn’t see, and didn’t have the confidence to move. That sucked.

“D’you mind, mate?”

I am with my friends Ben, Stokey and Lydia. They’re lovely, but they’re quite short. This crowd looks more like a model village.

I hate being separated from friends at gigs. You don’t do a lot of talking, but there’s a lot of looking to be done, and loving-it glances to be shared.

“Sorry, mate, I’m with some friends.”

The girls are embarrassed, and don’t want to have a man mountain standing between them and their escort, a slightly drunk chap who insists on making the situation increasingly awkward.

“Come on mate, they can’t see.”

The truth is that it sucks for them, but at a gig this rammed someone will always have to stand behind me. It’s not fair for me to be forced to stand at the very back at every gig I go to. I pay the same as everybody else to get in. If you’re small, maybe you shouldn’t book standing tickets? Or arrive earlier. If I have to constantly make allowances for my enormity then you should have to constantly make allowances for the fact that you’re tiny and no-one likes you.

I politely decline, and the man drops the issue when tonight’s star takes the stage. He picks up his guitar and mumbles unintelligibly into the mic. He is a legend. A man who could shake the hand of Les Dennis and look him in the eye. I am among family.

This is insanely brilliant. John Mayer is every bit as good as his reputation, and this gig is excellent. It’s lacking one thing, though. As every good performer knows, audience interaction is massive, and John’s a bit shy.

‘Vultures’ comes to a close, and John asks for the lights to be shone on the audience.

Finally some banter!

He steps into the shadow of his mentor Roy Walker and just says what he sees.

“I see a sign over there asking for Slow Dancing In A Burning Room but we’ve already played that so you can that sign the f*** down”.

Rude.

His attention turns to the centre of the crowd. Directly in front of him there is a man wearing the official t-shirt. He’s tall, and standing head and shoulders above the circle of relative smurfs surrounding him. There’s something special about this guy, something… legendary. John gravitates.

“I see a… super tall guy wearing the official t-shirt”.

John is pointing at me. Everyone surrounding me is pointing at me. Ben, Alex and Lydia are too short for me to hide behind. The two girls behind me can’t see. I look around. John Mayer is definitely talking to me.

I instantly feel like a bag of sugar.

How am I meant to react? I don’t like hero-worship, and idolising pop stars. I really hope my reaction is calm. Subtle. English.

I raise my hand to him and nod.

I’m such a legend.

“And I can see a cute girl with a headband standing behind him. Can we get Cute Headband Girl and Super Tall Guy to switch places for a second?”

Are you freaking kidding me????

John repeats the question.

The man behind me is beaming.

I step aside, deflated, as Cute Headband Girl, who is really quite cute, reluctantly steps forward.

I am not happy. I begin to suspect that John doesn’t see us as equals.

“Oh!!!!” John exclaims. He then says something that, cloaked in his deep, boomy accent, sounds like “A her her her, her her her, super tall her her her headband” to my ears.

Only my ears.

Many, many eyes are on me. They have all heard and understood John’s ramblings.

This could go either way…

UPROAR!

Oh no!

The whole stadium is rolling around on the floor with laughter. I feel like a melting bag of sugar. I am separated from my friends and being mocked for my height by 2000 people and a Hollywood A-lister.

John carries on into the last song of his set and Cute Headband Girl walks red-faced back to her blind spot. I ask Ben what was said. He tells me that John said I was quite good looking too.

Your flattery will get you nowhere with me Mr Mayer.

I decide that if John is a legend, I don’t want to be. I officially resign.

A few days later I am online. It’s lunchtime and I’m dossing about on t’internet.

Then I see them.

The words ‘Super Tall Guy’ are splashed over the internet.

My eyes widen with each word.

I have become…

… a legend.

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Comments
  1. Dawn Pinches says:

    I don’t see your height anymore …. Just your great big beautiful heart xx love ❤ you BG. Xxxxxxxxxxxxx ( your soooo much better than any legend… You total diamond !! ) xx ma n pa pinch xx

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