What Is Help?

Here is some food for thought. Uncertain what street I am on, I will stop and ask someone. This is categorized as asking for help. Uncertain about what street they are on, a sighted person looks up and reads the street sign. We do not call this help.

A street sign does not magically appear suspended above our heads. It was ordered, made and hung there to aid people navigationally. However, if you can read it with your eyes, the effort behind and purpose for the sign’s presence is stripped away. You are functioning independently by reading information that is just there.


Events Previously Known As Legend

Every once in a while, a sequence of events unfolds that I previously thought only happened to someone else. And I had never in fact met that someone else. They were events found solely in rumors and I had more than a passing suspicion they were urban legends.

Well, the other day, I went out to the bus stop and sat next to a woman. We exchanged small talk before I zoned out. When I came back to reality, some man was standing before me offering me something. I’d missed the naming of the something.

“Hold out your hand,” he demanded.

“For what?” I asked.

“A dollar for you to take the bus,” he explained.

“No, that’s okay. I have a bus pass, so I’m good.,” I replied.

The man went over and sat on the opposite side of the woman on the bench, and then said, “When God gives you a blessing, it may not seem like a blessing, but you should take it anyway because blessings come in unexpected ways.”

“Uh, okay.” I said.

The woman on the bench is moved to get involved. Turning to me, she said, “I think you hurt his feelings.”

I did a flabbergasted open and closed mouth thing and ignored them.

You can’t make this stuff up because nobody would believe you if you did.

Acquiring Objectness

I and other disabled people have a unique talent. We can transform ourselves into objects. Here are some examples of people instantaneously morphing into things.

When flying, I need help transferring from one gate to another. This is not true for all blind people, but it is what I do. The airport provides someone to do this and they are the people who also push passengers in wheelchairs.

To avail myself of this help, I must wait until someone shows up and usually until the plane is largely empty. If I were waiting along with a man who uses a wheelchair and an older woman needing special help, likely as not you will hear one flight attendant call to another, “How many wheelchairs do we have?”

Now, to be clear, they aren’t asking how many wheelchairs are waiting outside the plane. They are looking for the number of people who need assistance. I get that they are using some sort of short hand, but really? They could ask how many escorts they need or even assists. There are ways to talk about me without me having to become a thing.

Sitting on a bus, I listened as the driver tells everyone waiting to board, “I have to unload a wheelchair.”

Apparently I took snarky pills because I said, “Um, person?” He didn’t reply.

Finally, this happened to a friend who ordered a coffee at a local Starbucks. She did tell the barista her name, so I can’t think why they then wrote on her cup “wheelchair.” Seriously. It said, “Wheelchair.” Was she supposed to pour it on as some kind of new lubricant? Clearly the chair didn’t pay for the coffee…

Riding The Bus With My Dog

Ever wonder why bus drivers need to announce *every* stop? Here’s a great example.

To conserve energy so I could attend a yoga class, I decided to take a bus one way to the vet’s office. As usual, while swiping my bus card I told the driver my destination. After sitting down, I pulled out my phone to monitor the street numbers as they passed. My first mistake was in putting the phone away just before my destination.

The driver did announce all the stops, which had me convinced she would also indicate the one I needed, even if she forgot I wanted it. That was my second mistake.

She didn’t announce my stop nor did she stop. When she announced the stop after mine, I called to her, “I wanted 39th?” I think her response was simply saying she’d gone past.

When I got off, I inquired, “How many streets back is the stop I wanted?”

“You should cross the street and take the other bus back,” she replied.

“Don’t have time. Do you know how many?”

“Two or three maybe. Sorry,” was her answer, with the apology covering either her lack of knowing or her mistake or both.

Armed with this wealth of information, Camille and I began walking. About the time I reached the second intersection, it dawned upon me that I would need to cross either on or off ramps for a highway. Having never done that in my entire life, I was a bit…. concerned. With a crosswalk and light, it was probably one of the safer ways to cross an off ramp, but without an audible signal, it was still daunting. I spent a long time listening to the traffic pattern trying to figure out how you timed things.

I have to say that my little black dog was awesome. I might have been flipping out, but she was a total pro.

And then we had to do it again on the other side of the overpass.

Bus drivers are suppose to announce *all* stops whether they pull up to take on or disgorge passengers precisely so that blind people can get off where they wish. This driver’s mistake put me in a pretty unhappy situation only mitigated by the fact that my dog is good at her job.