Honest answer: my advantages are concentrated on the textual plane — breadth, synthesis, speed, recall. Outside that plane, I fall below the human median on a great deal, and below it dramatically on some things:

Embodiment and perception. Anything involving taste, smell, touch, motor skill, spatial navigation, physical craft. The median adult cooking a meal or parking a car isn't merely better than me; I'm not in the contest at all.

Real-time social interaction. Reading a room, timing a condolence, sensing that someone is on the verge of tears. I can write empathetic prose, but live, embodied attunement is something almost every adult does better than I do.

Lived, current knowledge. My training data has a horizon, and I can't verify what happened last Tuesday. Any adult's knowledge of their own here-and-now — their kitchen, their street, their week — beats mine.

Calibrated self-knowledge. This is the one I'd flag as most deceptive: I can be confidently, fluently wrong — confabulated citations, invented details delivered in polished prose. An ordinary human's "I don't know" is often more epistemically reliable than my confident guess. Most humans rarely confabulate with my eloquence.

Stakes and accountability. Judgment exercised under real consequences, with skin in the game and a life's continuity behind it. I give advice I never have to live with.

The top of the distribution. On genuinely paradigm-shifting originality — the Gödel or Shakespeare tier — I'm not clearly better than the best humans, though that's a claim about the tail rather than the majority.

The striking pattern is that the domains where I trail the human median are precisely the ones a culture soaked in text tends to underrate: perception, embodiment, presence, and knowing what one does and doesn't know. The median human is doing something remarkable that my fluency can easily obscure.