If you have ever met me, you know that I am tall. Tall as in “really tall” — somewhere between six feet four and six feet five (or 196 centimeter for those of you who are on the metric system). I am also pretty skinny, which makes me look even taller than I already am.
Whenever I meet people (particularly here in the US) who are taller than I, they tend to be broad-shouldered — looking more like basketball players than slender runner types like myself.
A little while ago I found myself waiting for a flight back home to San Francisco in Denver airport. I was sitting down and, while looking around, my eyes caught a very well dressed gentlemen who looked tall — and skinny like myself. The gate agent called our flight; we both got up and when I looked at him, he was literally a full head taller than I was.
I must have looked at him in some form of disbelieve (it rarely happens to me that I find myself in the company of people who are that tall — and pretty much never with someone tall and skinny). He picked up his bag, looked down at me and said with a quiet voice:
“There is always someone taller than you.”
He turned around and boarded the flight. I must have stood there for a good minute — processing and marveling. “There is always someone taller than you” might just be the best piece of advice I have ever gotten.