Travelling while being the same height as Danny Devito is a nightmare

I’m 4 feet 10 inches, which is the same height as Danny DeVito (Picture: Adam Gerrard)

My heart sank as the kind stranger lifted my luggage and placed it in the overhead compartment on the plane.

I was in my mid 20s in 1994 and flying alone to Portugal. This nice person thought they were doing me a favour, as I was struggling to reach it myself. But as they pushed it to the back, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it down on my own either. 

I’m 4 feet 10 inches, which is the same height as Danny DeVito or Barbara Windsor, for reference. And – like every short person – I’m acutely aware of the importance of a carefully positioned suitcase in an overhead locker.

If it’s at the front, you have a fighting chance of being able to stand on tiptoe (or jump), reach up, and grasp the handle.

A few inches further back, and you are reliant on the helpfulness of others. Then if you need to get something out of your bag mid-flight, bad luck.

I envy tall people because they simply stand up, open the compartment, reach into their bag, and retrieve their book. Us sub-five-footers have to think ahead, making sure we have everything we might need before the ‘fasten seatbelts’ sign lights up.

Many people don’t look at you beyond your height (Picture: Judy Yorke)

It’s ironic, then, that tall people never stop moaning about planes and trains – there’s never enough leg room apparently, and they often complain about cramps.

True, I never have to pay for the extra legroom seats (though I have been tempted, just for a laugh). But the fact is that travelling as a short person is just as difficult – sometimes more – especially if you’re alone.

I became aware of my (lack of) height when I was four and we had to line up in order of height to go into assembly. I hated it, as I was always in the prime spot to be picked on. I longed to make it to second position, but never managed it.

When I grew older, life as a short teenager was tricky because I was too small for the trendy clothes my friends wore. And many people don’t look at you beyond your height, which meant that even in my twenties, it was hard to get served in a pub.

My backpack was pretty much the same size as I was (Picture: Judy Yorke)

As for travelling, I first realised the extent of the problem when I embarked on an interrail trip across Europe with friends in 1988, aged 20.

My backpack was pretty much the same size as I was, even though I’d carefully chosen one 20 litres smaller than everyone else’s – and I struggled with it for the entire month-long trip.

Today, being small never stops me doing anything, and it certainly doesn’t stop me travelling, which is one of my passions.

It’s become easier now I have a husband and two lanky (ish) teenagers as travel companions, even if they do pat me condescendingly on my head as they store my luggage.

I have to plant my size three feet very firmly on the floor (Picture: Judy Yorke)

We’ve interrailed as a family for the last two years and I plan the trips meticulously to avoid any small-person difficulties.

That means I reserve train seats where I can because I can’t reach the standing ceiling straps that others cling on to. So I have to plant my size three feet very firmly on the floor and hope the train doesn’t stop suddenly or jolt.

I’ve been thrown around a few times on metros, but luckily never hurt.

Being small also causes problems when you get to your destination. My view of everything from the Tour de France in Paris to the Menin Gate ceremony in Ypres has been the back of people’s heads.

My view of everything from the Tour de France in Paris to the Menin Gate ceremony in Ypres has been the back of people’s heads (Picture: Judy Yorke)

It doesn’t matter how early you pick your spot, someone at least a foot bigger than you will inevitably rock up at the last minute and plonk themselves in front of you, blocking your view.

Seeing a monument or a famous picture in an art gallery means having to wait patiently for people to disperse before I can nip in and claim a place at the front.

We’re off to Bilbao this summer and I’m planning to book an early slot at the Guggenheim to arrive before the crowds.

As we walked through 16 different towns and cities on our first interrail trip, I became tired of pointing out to my family that no, I wasn’t walking slowly. I was walking just as quickly as they were – I was just walking shortly.

I’m planning to book an early slot at the Guggenheim to arrive before the crowds (Picture: Judy Yorke)

This was proved by the fact I sometimes took 5,000 steps a day more than my husband. Guess who was the one with blisters? 

There can be problems with accommodation too. Bathroom mirrors are so high that you can’t see in them. Glasses and mugs on top shelves of tall kitchen cupboards in rented apartments. Windows with locks so high up you can’t reach them.

On the upside, I had no problems in an airing cupboard-sized couchette on our interrailing trip, and I could manage with the tiny sachets of shower gel you get in some budget hotels. I also save money when buying emergency holiday items like flip-flops as I can buy children’s sizes.

So travel as a shortie is far from impossible – it just takes a little bit more planning.

And to all the tall people who moan about how hard they have it, at least you can see over people’s heads at the Mona Lisa and the Peeing Boy statue.

So stop your complaining – now, can you get my bag down please?

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