I saw a very tall airline captain waiting for a hotel elevator today. "I hope you don't fly an RJ," I said to him, with a grin, thinking of the normal height flight attendant I'd seen recently, stooping during a meal service in the low-ceilinged CRJ-200 cabin.
"I do," he said, and stepped into the elevator with his crew before I could offer an appropriate commiseration.
Now there's a reason to pursue an upgrade.
I call the woman in charge of fuel here. There's a 20,000 litre capacity avgas tank at the airport, so assuming that there's an equal chance of any amount having being in it when we arrived, and knowing how much we take in a day, there's a fifty percent change of us alone running it dry in a week. There have been a few small singles in and out taking forty or a hundred litres at a time, too, and that also adds up. The administrator says she'll dip the tank and check. She can get an order delivered within a day of placing it, so now I won't have to worry about running out.