Last night, I went to the grocery store. There were five people standing in line in front of me and nobody really looked at each, or talked to each other. The cashier was a large African American lady and also didn’t say a word. That was until I stepped up to the front of the line. The large African American lady looks up (or maybe down) to me and says “HELLO LITTLE MAN.” What, little man? Where did this come from. I am like 5.9, possibly 5.9 and a quarter. And she calls me “little man?” Needless to say, everybody in line started cracking up like no tomorrow. Even the cashier behind us started laughing and the bag-boy almost spit out the crackers he was chewing on. I just kind of stood there, questionably mumbling “little man?”
Good thing I am so secure about my height.
I am going to a graduation show at the Academy of Art in San Francisco tomorrow. They are flying me up to look at their students’ work, which is a very nice gesture. If it wasn’t on Southwest Airlines, I’d almost feel famous.