Blindness is not what defines me, but it certainly influences who I am and how I experience the world, as well – I’m sure – as how the world experiences me. Though being blind does not stop me from doing most things sighted people can, it does mean that often I have to find other, more creative ways of doing them. As a female in my late twenties, living in the heart of one of the most beautiful and progressive cities in the country, with an insatiable appetite for travel and adventure and a brand-new guidedog, I am continually met with this challenge in an endless variety of ways throughout my day to day life. I decided to start this blog as a way of getting more perspective on and making better sense of my experiences. After reaching a major transition point – a shift from always having a strong sense of what I want and where I am headed, to then receiving my Masters degree and suddenly no longer having any idea of how to proceed in life – I have a strong desire for some new form of inspiration and guidance. So, I am hoping that writing will help me to clarify a sense of purpose and direction in my much more uncertain, post academic life.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Yacht Club - February 20, 2011
Yay-yah…what a weekend! After yesterday’s quick Tahoe excursion (against my better judgment of likely time constraint on such an endeavor)), and just a few hours sleep, today was all about sailing. Since I was back in time to get on the boat and the sun was actually making an appearance, why not, right? And I’m very glad I did because the conditions were fabulous; there were strong winds, lasting sunshine (though it was freakin’ freezing), and some good rollers (waves). The camaraderie was great, the banter endless, being at the helm (steering) felt completely natural to me, and just a general sense of ease for me on the boat.
After sailing I was planning on going home rather than having drinks at the yacht club as most of our group often does. However, I ended up going in to sit with another blind sailor so she wouldn’t have to wait by herself for the rest of the crew to come up from the docks. At the club we came across our Commodore (also blind, and a very interesting man), and of course we all got to talking. The next thing I know, a guy we met, offered to buy us a round, and then the rest of our crew arrived. Before I knew it two hours had gone by, and I was a little buzzed off one (very large) glass of wine (how sad, I know).
Anyway, as I finally left the table for home, the guy who bought the round appeared beside me, saying he had something to give me. Expecting his contact info of some sort, I was pretty stunned when he handed me a paper with his name and number in homemade Braille. At first, I had trouble deciphering the message, but when put in context I was able to figure it out. Wow, impressive! Because he avoided telling me how he knew Braille, I can only assume that while I sat chatting, he had looked it up online, and then proceeded to poke the described series of holes into a piece of paper with a pen or something. This guy gets major points!
I was pretty stoked because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a gesture of quite this magnitude before – a sightling willing to take that big a step into our world – and I wanted to share the hope it inspires with other blindies, let them know what’s possible. J So, I went to find the Commodore, who I heard pass by on his way to the restroom. Because I can hear the Ladies’ room is fully occupied and I have to wait anyway, I knock on the Men’s room door to see if the Commodore is still in there. He is, but can’t hear me through the door. So, after thinking how such actions aren’t really permissible in the sighted world but are totally acceptable amongst blindies, I open the door and walk in, just as he calls, “why don’t you just come in!” I replied, “I’m already here,” and relayed my story, asking him to send out a particular woman whose opinion I trust. As I open the door to leave, I seem to startle another of our sailors (who is a bit shy and much more reserved than some of us) on his way in. Laughing, I cross to the ladies’ room (now empty), and shortly after, hear the woman I sent for (one of our sighted sailors) calling my name in the hall. I then hear her open the men’s room door, asking if I am inside. By this time I am laughing to myself hysterically at the comedy skit this has become, and at what I can only imagine what the Commodore (never one to miss a chance to improve upon a story) has said. When my companion finally enters the ladies room, she reports that the Commodore got back to the table and announced that I was in the men’s room and needed help. (Thanks a lot Old Man) So she came looking for me, and when she opened the men’s room door, there were three men inside, one of whom was the drinks guy who unknowingly brought this whole thing about. A positive visual report from her (just so I know the guy isn’t flying a visual freak flag), and the scene comes to a close; though my friend is sorry that walking into the men’s room didn’t provide her with more of a view to report.
Awe, sometimes I wonder how the yacht club keeps us on here. As I walk out into the frigid night, I remember that the Prince concert is tomorrow night…the excitement never ends around here.
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