Nope, I'm taller. Says so right here on my driver's license - I'm seven foot two. See, the form said "Height" and didn't have a box for feet and inches. Assuming that they didn't want metric system, but did want a single number not separated by diacritical marks, I put 72", which is how tall I was until yesterday.
So when the woman took my form and processed it, she read 72" as 7' 2". She didn't bother noticing that I'm clearly not over seven feet tall. She didn't tumble to the fact that I'd clearly marked my height in inches, rather than feet. She just transposed - so now it's official by act of the duly constituted and authorized legal authority of the California DMV. I'm seven feet, two inches. Way taller'n you, pal.
(P.S. It's an impossibly beautiful day. There's a bright sun and clear skies. It's warm, pleasantly so - the sun on my face was at least as cheering as the Phial of Galadriel. There's a lazy breeze coming in off the Pacific that keeps everything just exactly cool enough. And the ocean was the brightest, lightest shade of blue I've ever seen this morning - lighter than the palest cornflower, more brilliant and clear than the eyes of that girl that you just can't shake because of the way she looked right into you when you were... Ah yes. This is the most perfect day in creation, I nearly think.)