Thursday
Sep252003
Thursday, September 25, 2003 at 12:01AM Driving Blind
As previously mentioned I am legally blind which means I cannot get a driver's license. That does not mean I haven't driven. Do you remember the scene in the movie Scent of A Woman in which Al Pacino (who is blind) drives a ferrari at high speeds through the streets of New York? Well, my stories are not that dramatic, but close.
Having poor vision goes against my self-concept of being cool at times. I have grown adept at explaining my poor eyesight to people in a few words and moving on. Like at a restaurant when I am reading the menu with my magnifying glass, sometimes the waitress will say something like, "why don't you get some glasses?" I will reply, "this is what I have to do, glasses don't help me, my eyes are too bad." This approach usually works and she starts reciting the daily specials.
The toughest task for me is going into a restaurant where the customers have to go to a counter and order off of the menu on the wall behind. Because I cannot see it I have to ask to have it read to me. I would have to be starving to do that though. I cannot see myself going up to the cashier and saying, "would you read the menu to me? I cannot see it." Usually I am with someone and they read it off to me or I would just loiter near the cashier and see what others are ordering. Pride is something huh? I have not gotten off topic. This information is necessary to understand what is to follow.
The point is this: I would likely kill myself to avoid certain kinds of embarrassment.
Rain Boy
In high school I worked at a Red Lobster. Most of the employees had long hair - I did not. This worked to my disadvantage whenever it rained. If it rained, Mr. Boznango the rotund Italian manager would find me. "Strain, you're the rain boy, get out there." I hated to be the rain boy. "Why do I always have to be the rain boy? It's someone else's turn." "Just put on the suit and get your ass out there," he would say over his shoulder as he was walking away from me. I already knew the reason. Of all the kitchen help I looked the least offensive.
The rain boy suit was one of those yellow rain suits. The pants had suspenders and there was a hooded jacket. I was often mistaken for Big Bird when wearing this outfit. My task was to walk people to their car while holding the umbrella to spare them getting drenched. If there was no one to walk out to the car, I was to watch for people pulling into the parking lot and meet them where they parked to escort them to the restaurant.
One Saturday night about 9:00 PM it started pouring rain. My efforts to look busy or inconspicuous proved useless, Mr. Boznango found me - "OK Strain, we need you for rain boy." Everyone always laughed at the assignment. "Ha ha, see ya rain boy," came the chorus of razzings. They would emphasize the "boy" part. It was humiliating walking through the crowded lobby wearing the bright yellow suit which rendered its wearer completely uncool.
I went outside and began the job. It worked out sometimes. The people without umbrellas were very appreciative and often tipped me. An overhang provided a place for people to wait while I escorted other customers to their cars. Returning to the waiting area after a trip I was greeted by a rather large, well dressed man standing next to a brand new Cadillac. "Here kid, go park my car," he said grabbing my hand and placing two dollar bills in it. "Ok," I replied taking the money and getting in the running car. I just could not tell him I wasn't a licensed driver because I was legally blind. Maybe because of the humiliation I was experiencing due to the whole "rain boy" thing or maybe because I was becoming a man, for whatever reason I did not tell him.
So here I am, legally blind, pouring rain, brand new Cadillac, possible mob figure waiting for me to bring back his keys - life does not get much better for a 17 year old. I drove slowly around the building and parked in the back where there was plenty of room No one would be around to critique my parking skills in all the rain. I was hoping the rain would let up soon and the guy could go get his own car. It was a perfect plan.
When I got back to the waiting area a Lincoln Town Car was waiting for me. The big guy had a friend. The friend gave me two more dollars and made the same request. "OK," I said just like before, I slowly drove around the building in the Lincoln and parked next to the Cadillac. It started raining harder. I began to wonder if the rain would let up. If not I would have to bring the cars back - in traffic - with people walking around - in the dark - this could go bad on me.
Eventually the rain let up, but not completely. I did not want to chance the two guys coming back requesting I get their cars, so I went back to work in the kitchen. Mr. Boznango had radar like my mother. Within two minutes he noticed I was back and even more suspicious because I was working. "Strain, what are you doing back here? You're supposed to be the rain boy," he said. "Well, it quit raining so I came in," I told him. Mr. Boznango headed toward the back door to see for himself. He glanced out the door and saw it was still raining, "it's still raining, get back out there," he ordered.
I once again put on the Big Bird suit and went back outside. In retrospect, I should have told Mr. Boznango my dilemma and he would have done something to avoid the liability, but I did not say anything to him. Now back outside, I was praying for the rain to stop, but it continued steadily. Another lul came over and I headed back inside. Just when I thought things were going to work out, my two friends met me in the doorway. "Here kid, here's four bucks and the keys, go get our cars," "OK," I said possibly setting in motion an automobile /mob / blind guy / disaster of some sort.
Quite anti climactically, there was no disaster. I got both of the cars back without damage or embarrassment. When I went inside and told everyone what had happened, they of course thought it was hillarious, but Mr. Boznango almost had a stroke. "Do you know what would have happened if you had wrecked one of those cars? Do you realize the liability we would have?"
After that incident, Mr. Boznango still made me be the rain boy, but he would add these instructions as I would head outside, "don't park any damn cars!"
Who's Driving the Boat
My friend Brian had a friend named Pat who was the administrator of a nursing home. The corporation who owned the nursing home occasionally took customers deep sea fishing in the gulf. Luckily, I got an invitation for a trip. The night before we were to go out fishing we drove down to Grand Isle, Louisiana stopping along the way for boiled crabs and beer. We slept in a condo that night and got up at 5:00 AM to get ready for our expedition.
Our boat had a captain and a first mate. The vessel was open in the back to accomodate fishing. The midsection of the craft was a galley and living quarters. A metal ladder led to the wheel house located at the top midship. The seas were calm for our ride 30 miles offshore to the fishing spots the captain had in mind. I had invisioned the gulf as just water, but there were patches of sea grass and numerous oil rigs spotting the seascape. Once on scene we followed our captain's advice and caught lots of fish.
There was not enough rail space around the boat for all of us to fish at once, so we rotated. During one of my times not fishing the captain motioned for me to come up the stairs into the wheel house. I climbed the ladder to see what he wanted.
"Do you see that rig over there?" he said pointing forward. "Yes," I lied. "Just head straight for it," he said exiting the wheel house to go below. "No problem," I said (another lie). With the captain out of the way I started squinting to see the rig he was talking about. All I saw was water and sky. I began thinking what I should do. I quickly ruled out calling the captain back and telling him the truth. What was I to say, "which rig did you say to head toward? Oh, I don't see that one. . ." I tried picking out a a spot on a cloud until I realized the clouds were moving and following one of them would get us off course. I finally decided to watch the wake of the boat and make sure it stayed striaght - this seemed to work OK. I knew I was not going to run into anything, but I did not want to be miles off course when Ahab returned. I figured I could always act dumb when he returned. If I was off course I would just go, "oh, I thought you meant to do a figure eight in a zig zag pattern." Acting dumb would be no act at all.
It seemed like a long time before the skipper returned. He made it back just before I circumnavigate the globe. "OK, I'll take it from here," he said. He seemed even friendlier and very willing to take the wheel. I did not know it at the time, but Brian had asked him "do you know a blind guy is driving the boat?" That sent him up the stairs to relieve me fast. It was like yelling "battle stations - all hands on deck - a blind guy is driving the boat - we're all going to die."
Brian tells the story great. He describes his slow realization about who was and was not driving the boat. He will say, "I was looking around and I noticed the captain, then I saw the first mate. I saw Dr. D. and Pat then I thought - who the f**k's driving the boat." Then I asked the captain if he knew a blind guy was driving his boat. He had a very concerned look then headed up the stairs."
Those are my adventures in driving. Both episodes were more avoidance of embarrassment than a desire to take the helm. Has pride ever gotten you into trouble?
Until the next time
John Strain
When I got to work Tuesday morning I had to take a picture of these beautiful sun rays. Good old Louisiana humidity. It is hot and sticky, but it throws you a visual bone every now and then. I draw energy from noticing these things. Often so busy we rush by a wonder of nature. Yesterday I shared some of my favorite poems others wrote. Today I want to share one I wrote. "Embers" is a poem about the ebb and flow of passion in my life and maybe yours too. I hope you like it.
They say a voodoo curse was placed on this swamp in 1915 by a voodoo queen to avenge her incarceration and death. Later that year a hurricane hit killing most who lived there. Manchac is a wilderness with still, jade waters and ancient cypress trees draped with Spanish moss. At the edge of the wilderness on the shores of Lake Maurepas is a small fishing village and a popular seafood restaurant specializing in thin fried catfish. Saturday, Barbara, John, Ben, and I met Barbara's Dad who drove down from Vicksburg to have a birthday meal with his daughter at the best catfish house in the world - Middendorfs.