You probably haven’t even noticed but I’m not exactly built like a Gazelle. I’m one of those people, as good luck would have it, where my size makes me relatively close to the earth. This is great for lots of things. Skiing* and snowboarding*. Plane flights. Squeezing to the front of the mosh pit without getting the stink eye from your fellow festival goers.
What it isn’t so good for is the bar stool. If the name of the game is anything but downing martinis ’til you nearly backward flip off said bar stool, I can’t stand them. When a waiter says we have a table available on the bar they might as well be saying can I set you a table on the pavement out front. Continue reading