A DEAF PERSON'S GUIDE TO THE HOLIDAYS.....again

Since many people are new to my blog, here is my GUIDE for you that I posted last December. All others, read again. It's here for you, too!

A DEAF PERSON'S GUIDE TO HOLIDAYS WITH NON-SIGNING FAMILY

It’s Christmas time and, chances are, you’re going to be spending some of that time around family and friends. Perhaps you’re Deaf or hard of hearing and your family is not. Perhaps those hearing relatives don’t know sign language either. What’s a deafie to do to make sure they don’t go completely berserk at this time of year?

Here, I’ve put together ten holiday tips for staying sane and making the most of your time with hearing friends and family.

1. If you're worried about getting the perfect gift for that special someone, but the thought of battling through all the holiday traffic, spending hours finding a parking place, then remember that sometimes the best gift is a simple one. You can buy almost anything online from the comfort of your own home. Gift cards are also an easy way to go. But if you really want to “shake things up,” why not give them a vibrating alarm clock? No need to wrap it. Just sneak into their bedroom at night and place the vibrating part under their pillow. Although they’re usually meant to be placed under the mattress, putting it under their pillow will give them a much deeper and immediate appreciation for what you go through to wake up in the morning.

Just sneak into their bedroom, plug it in, and set the alarm for 1 minute later. Then sit back and watch the festivities begin!

2. If the thought of a party, family gathering, or other "mandatory" social event leaves you knotted up with anxiety, plan ahead for some "escape time" for yourself. If you are suddenly feeling overwhelmed with all of the lip-flapping and none of the hand-using, do what the experts tell you to do: Hide in the bathroom. (OK, maybe the experts don’t exactly say this, but I do, so we’ll just go with it, shall we?)

Not only can you lock the door and ignore all of the knocking and hands waving under the door, but you can go through their medicine cabinet and get to know them in a more personal way. Then, once at least 5 notes have been pushed under the door to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom, you can simply flush the toilet, let the water run for 10 seconds and emerge rejuvenated and wiser to the ways the host’s family deals with medication.

3. If you’re one who can lipread a bit, it might behoove you to determine in advance what subjects will be discussed.  Try to take a moment and think about what each guest is interested in and then practice lipreading words that might be said. You never know when learning to lipread “Sheboygan” and “antidisestablishmentarianism” will come in handy.

4. Greet every family member with a hug and sign, “It’s great to see you!”  You never have to recover from a good start. Then again, if you start things off on a bad note, it might just ruin the entire visit. Do what you think is best. If you think hugging Uncle Larry, who often looks at you like you’re about to smite him down with his own deafness, would benefit you (such as scaring him so badly that he loses all blood flow to his brain and passes out---fun to watch!) then hug away. Otherwise, a nice wave across the room should suffice.

5. Whatever issues exist, it is not the fault of your nephews, nieces, and grandchildren.  So, be sure to be nice to them. In fact, it’s a well-known fact that eating at the kids’ table is much more enjoyable. Not only can you play with your food, but, if you behave yourself, you can often get a second piece of pie. 

6.  Form alliances with those you like and stay clear of the dysfunctional ones. In other words, there’s no point in hanging out with Uncle Larry if your cousin Tammy signs well (and you like her). Just think of the things you can do! You can have long, gossipy conversations in sign language and no one will have a clue. In fact, I’ve even had people tell me that it’s rude to have signed conversations in front of people who can’t sign. My response is to explain how they’re doing the exact same thing when they speak around someone who can’t hear. Helloooo!

7. Don’t expect others to be different. It’s very easy to go into a situation like this, hoping that the people you haven’t seen in a while will be more receptive to you and include you more. Unfortunately, it’s those who haven’t seen you who will probably treat you worse. Out of sight, out of mind, applies to a person being deaf as well. So, don’t get your hopes up regarding people changing. Try to change your own attitude and let the ignorance of others roll off your back. (Easier said than done.)

8.  Keep busy! If you’re at a party and you feel bored or left out, find the host and ask what you can do to help. Whether it’s washing dishes or changing diapers, there’s sure to be something to occupy your time. Give it a try! If it doesn’t help, at least you can know that you helped someone else out that day.

9.  Use laughter and humor to take off the pressure. This is probably the most important tip of all! Everyone needs a sense of humor, and us deafies need it the most. Instead of focusing on why you’re unhappy or feeling excluded, try to think of things that are happening and what is funny about them.  So, you’ll be off in the corner laughing to yourself. So what? They already think you’re a freak because you’re deaf. Mental illness isn’t that far a step now, is it? 

10. Make an exit plan and use it. Escape, flee, run for the hills, hightail it out of there…anything you have to do to make it all go away. As soon as you’ve had enough, it is OK to tell people that you need to leave. Don’t stay until you’re so stressed you want to vomit in Uncle Larry’s shoes. He probably won’t notice it anyway. So leave. You may never enjoy these family gatherings, but, if you leave before total insanity has set in, you just might be able to find something good that came out of it.

WHAT? WHAT? WHAT DID I MISS?

When a person is born without or loses one of his five senses, the focus by many is on the loss and how, after the fact, that poor person misses or loses so much. Whether it be losing your sense of taste and not being able to enjoy chocolate anymore (yum), losing your sense of touch and not being able to decipher if something is too hot to hold at the moment (ouch), or having gas and not being aware that the people laying on the floor around you are, indeed, laying there because of you. Any way you look at it, it’s a loss to those who have all five senses working full-strength.

However, it goes without saying that losing your sight and losing your hearing may cause the most reaction from that person and those around him. The long-lived question of, “Which would you rather lose…your hearing or your sight,” almost always renders people feeling that losing your sight is the biggest problem. And I agree it would be traumatic, but so would be losing your hearing after you’ve spent decades enjoying music, having casual conversations, and such. Both would be traumatic. And, face it, there are very few people with both of these senses who wouldn’t really care if they lost one.

People think that, because I lost my hearing after I learned to speak, I am missing so much out of life. And I agree that it takes some working on to not go totally bananas. Before deafness I was a professional and amateur actress doing musical theatre. Not exactly something I can pursue anymore – especially living in the mid-west, in a spot where there aren’t many theatres around.

Movies aren’t as wonderful of an experience, but, now being deaf for a long time, I enjoy captioned movies just as much as I remember enjoying movies when I could hear. Finding theatres that offer captions for first-run movies is a bummer though, so I admit it grates on my nerves.

Plays and musicals are definitely not as exciting as I knew them to be. Watching an interpreter (when there’s one provided) and watching the action on the stage at the same time can be difficult (though there are theatres that directly address this situation by having the signers actually on the stage acting with the hearing actors). I miss theatre. I do. I also miss being able to sing (well). I used to have a great voice. I can say that now, because I no longer can control my voice and when I sing, dying dolphins would sound lovelier. I’ve told my kids over and over how well I used to sing, but, after hearing me as they’ve known me, I think they need more proof. I will say, though, that I took one of my kids to see an UNinterpreted production of “To Kill A Mockingbird,” last year and believe I enjoyed it every bit as much as my daughter did.

Then there’s small talk. Something I can no longer participate in with hearing people…at least not casually. I never liked small talk before, but have found that it does feel a LOT more isolating when you can’t joke around with people as easily. I still have a lot of sarcasm in my conversations, but many people don’t realize I’m just being a silly smart-mouth and just think I’m basically a witch.

But last night changed things for me. Made me see something more about my life.

One of my kids was going to be playing two different instruments in the school band concert. Because there’s no choir at this school (GASP!), it was a totally musical night—not something that really interests me anymore. And, no, if you’re wondering: feeling the musical vibrations in my butt does NOT excite me. After knowing and then losing music, vibrations and lights just don’t compare to what I know those hearies were hearing.

Anyway, she was supposed to play the xylophone in one song. The first time for her. I wasn’t thinking much of it. I mean, it’s the xylophone. I remember playing “Mary Had A Little Lamb” on that thing as a kid. Ooooo. (That was a sarcastic ooooo, if you missed it).

But when it came time for her to do the song with the rest of the band, I was flabbergasted! Amazed! Tickled pink! Stunned! I don’t know much about the song, but she was the star. She was banging on the instruments, going back and forth between two of them. Her sticks were flying and all eyes were on her. This was no, “Mary.” This was like Flight-of-the-Bumblebees-fast. And she ROCKED IT. I didn’t need to hear to know that.

After the concert, people she or we didn’t even know were running up to her and saying how COOL she was and I just stood there and glowed. That’s my daughter, I would’ve said if anyone had actually talked to me. She was good. I got to see it. And, even with the absence of sound I knew, I had witnessed something truly great. Do I feel like I missed out, because I’m Deaf? Not. One. Bit.

Yes, losing a sense is very traumatic if compared to never having the sense from the start. I guess I’ve been deaf looooong enough to be OK with it, though I know many who aren’t. One of these days everything is going to be accessible to people with a variety of  situations—including deaf people. I don’t know if I’ll still be alive when that finally happens, but I do know that I’m not going to sit around and be sad about it and waste my life concentrating on what’s been “taken” from me. I mean, really! If I were doing that, I would have missed my rock-star-daughter’s solo. And that would have been a travesty.

I AM DEAF AND THAT'S OK!

Last week, I attended a deaf convention. It was for an organization that claims to focus on people with adult-onset hearing loss (late-deafened adults, LDAs). I attended a few of their other conventions in the past, but it’s been five years since the last one. I wasn’t sure how it would go. I had talked with LDAs and had always felt like the bulk of them spend 99% of their time trying to stay in the “hearing world” and “fix” themselves. I don’t see my deafness that way. When I lost the last of my hearing a long time ago, I accepted that I was then completely deaf and I went about joining the “Deaf world.”

Anyway, I thought it would be a great experience. I thought I would meet tons of people who signed and, at the same time, knew (and accepted) what it was like to be both a hearing person (in the past) and a deaf person (in the present). That wasn’t what I found though. Instead, I found CIs galore, amplified telephones, and people talking to each other a mile a minute. It didn’t take me very long to realize that I didn’t fit in there. And this upset me greatly. Seems that organization has followed the trend of such groups as Hearing Loss Association of America, and it was just a bunch of people who tried to pull themselves of as Hard of Hearing at best.

When I moved to West Michigan ten years ago, I went about trying to find the Deaf community and meeting people. I have met many, many wonderful people in the process. But one thing stands out, and that is that I did not grow up here, did not go to school here, and am not really part of the cohesive group here. Part of that is circumstantial (in general, the Deaf crowd grows up together and stays pretty close) and part of that was my own darn fault (I am extremely shy and self-conscious, so I don’t jump into groups and make friends easily). However, the fact remains that I’ve met so many great people in the West Michigan Deaf Community. I thought this other organization would be even easier.

I figured, here are people who grew up hearing or hard of hearing and learned to speak before deafness. But this group wasn’t full of “deafies.” Far from it. And, because I am a deafie, it was isolating and painful.

Trying to find out where you fit in in life and groups can be a very painful process. Sometimes things go your way and it’s easy, but most of the time you have to have some real cojones and a ton of resiliency….things I do not possess. So where do I fit in? Where do I go to find people to bond with and grow with and have fun with? Am I so scared of my surroundings that I give off an aire of witchiness? Is there something about me specifically that turns people away? Or do I just have a very poor ability of finding the right people? Not sure.

But I do know that I am Deaf. I am bi-cultural and bi-lingual and I accept that I will never hear again. I need Sign Language to communicate and do not possess lipreading skills that are worth very much. I use a Video Phone and teach ASL and hang out watching captioned movies and talking in places with good lighting. I am Deaf. And I’m OK with that. I don’t want to be “fixed.” I just want to be accepted.

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU KNOW?!?!?: Should ASL Profanity Be Openly Taught?

I recently went online and decided to look up any new Deaf- and ASL-related books available on Amazon. One of them caught my eye. It was a book on the “dirty words” in Sign Language. It made me consider whether it was appropriate to teach the profanity of ASL to new students or not.

I’ve heard the debate. When James Woodward came out with his two books, “Signs of Drug Use” and “Signs of Sexual Behavior,” there was quite a bit of an uproar regarding whether that inside knowledge should be thrust out there for anyone to learn. The simple fact is that many people just want to know the profanity. They think it’s funny. Now I can call my teacher an A-hole without him knowing, or whatever. Many Deaf people felt that ASL, being their language, shouldn’t be something just given out, but rather knowledge earned.

But there is a need out there for those who are serious about learning the language…especially interpreters-in-training. They do need to know that information. How can you possibly interpret in a courtroom if you don’t know the signs for sexually-oriented concepts? The trouble lies with who has control of and access to this information.

I’ve seen people say that if a person is serious about learning ASL, then they should find a Deaf friend and ask them how to do the mature words. OK. Good idea…if it’s possible. Some people are not sure how to bring it up and some people don’t know a Deaf person well enough to ask. Although an interpreter has to overcome a lot of feelings of embarrassment (especially working with culturally Deaf people who are known for their candidness and bite), it doesn’t mean it’s easy for them to say, “So, Jared, can you please tell me in what contexts I would use this sign for F--k and which times this sign is better?” May seem easy if that kind of thing comes naturally to you, but most of the time it doesn’t.

The book in question seems to have gotten some pretty good reviews—even from Deaf individuals. So, I’m inclined to think it isn’t as controversial over 30 years after James Woodward had to deal with the uproar. I took a look inside and the pictures are poor enough that I feel you would need to already have a working knowledge of the book in order to understand the descriptions anyway. Nevertheless, I ordered it. It’s titled, "Dirty Sign Language: Everyday Slangfrom "What's Up?" to "F*%# Off!" I’ll check it out and see what my side is on this debate. In the meantime, what do you feel about teaching sign language students the “dirty” words?

YES YOU CAN!

As a teacher of ASL, I've been told many reasons (or excuses) for why a person cannot learn to sign. Sure, there's the usual, "no time," or, "too old," both of which is a matter of opinion, but very often people will tell me they can't learn to sign because of a disability they deal with on a daily basis.

I don't buy it though. Yes, there are definitely exceptions to the rule, but, in general, I don't think simply having a "disability" excludes a person from the world of ASL.

In fact, I've worked with students with various types of circumstances, including dystonia, dysphonia, MS, MD, autism, Asperger's Syndrome, apraxia, and mental retardation, and have yet to have a case where I advised them that contining to learn was useless.

Anyone can learn to sign if they truly want to. Sure, it may take a little extra time and effort, but it'll happen. So, don't let a barrier in your life cause you to miss out on this language. You can do it!!!

IT IS WHAT IT IS...AND I LIKE THAT

The other night, I was laying bed, watching the auditions for the new show, “The X Factor,” when something hit me. It was my teenaged daughter, Mollie, trying to get my attention with a sock. Apparently, I was so engrossed in the show that I didn’t notice her standing in the corner, jumping up and down and waving her arms. She’d been doing this for the past five minutes, but, hey, I was watching an interesting segment!

See, there was a young man on the show. He was the only “normal-sized” member of an all-dwarf family (those were the terms the family used). It really melted my heart, because what I observed was the ease the family had with each other. This guy (who, if I remember right, was still a teenager) thought nothing of getting down on his knees for a big mama hug or looking down to have a totally natural conversation with his father. Am I starting to sound ignorant yet? I am ignorant of that culture and life. But really! It was the naturalness that struck me (aside from the dirty, balled-up sock I had to peel out of my hair). He never knew any different, so there was no judgment of the things he had to do with the members of his family.

That made me think about my own kids. Youngsters, ages 11, 12 and 14, who signed before they ever spoke and think nothing of living in both the Deaf and Hearing cultures. Standing in the room, jumping up and down, pelting their mother with slimy, old pieces of clothing, is never given a second thought. It just is what it is. It’s a fact of life around here. Sign Language is no more embarrassing for them than back-flips are to clowns. OK. That made no sense. I’m not in the mood to Google other comparisons at the moment, so just go with it.

Seriously though. I love the fact that the kids aren’t embarrassed about the differences in our family. Even my teenager likes to hang out with my Deaf friends, “because they’re funny and have funny faces.” Hmmm. OK, maybe that one isn’t the greatest example. She just likes the animation of ASL, but those are the words this genius chose to use, so I typed them.

Stomping on floors, “speaking” through windows, using facial grammar, heck, even jumping up and down in the corner of the room for five minutes, are natural expressions of needing to communicate. I like that. I like that I’m not seen by them as weird or embarrassing. Well, yes, I am, but it has nothing to do with my deafness and that’s my point. All moms are weird and embarrassing to their kids at some point. But I’m not more so. And that makes me happy. Mom is Deaf. We need to do this and that to have a full and rich relationship with her. It just is what it is. Now, someone come over here and do my laundry, so I don’t have to deal with dirty socks in my hair anymore.

DON'T CALL ME THAT! Are Some People Too Sensitive In Regard to Terminology?

People have their opinions. Anyone who reads my (or anyone’s) blog will clearly know that. Opinions exist about everything from the President of the United States to the price of gas to whether Kim Kardashian’s boobs look real. OK. I actually don’t have an opinion on that one.

One thing that’s been discussed in many different ways is what terms are acceptable when referring to minority groups. Political correctness has become the goal for everyone as each person strives to decipher what’s right, what’s wrong, what’s polite, and what’s downright rude.

The Deaf Culture considers itself a minority group of sorts. Not disabled—just a group of people who cohesively use a language other than English to communicate. Where hearing people might consider a Deaf person communicatively handicapped if they walked into a room of hearing people talking; those same hearing people would be equally handicapped if they walked into a room full of Deaf people fluently signing in ASL.

When a hearing person refers to a Deaf individual, there begins a debate of which terms can safely be used and which terms should be laid to rest. Terms such as “deaf and dumb” or “deaf mute” are obviously no longer considered couth. I know many Deaf people who are oodles smarter than any hearing person I’ve ever known. And I’ve yet to meet a Deaf person who does not have fully functioning vocal cords—thus they are not definably “mute.”

Even the term “hearing impaired” is frowned upon by the Deaf Community. I mean, who wants to be labeled “impaired” about anything? I certainly don’t. Nope. The terms of choice are simple: “Deaf” or “Hard of Hearing.” No, “Deaf” is not derogatory. It’s a statement of fact. I’m proud to be called that and personally have never had an occasion when it didn’t sit right with me. I’m Deaf and proud to carry that label.

For those who are unable to understand the spoken work without aid but are not comfortable with “deaf,” “hard of hearing” is a pretty generalized phrase that should sit OK with most.  Of course, as I said before, everyone has their own feelings and sometimes it’s just easier to ask a person what term they prefer. If in doubt, no worries. Why even refer to a person based on their hearing status? Call them by their name. That’s usually safe. Usually.

Then there are people who take things to an extreme (in my opinion). People who say, “Don’t say, ‘can’t hear.’ That’s so negative!” or “Don’t say, ‘has trouble hearing’—you’re just focusing on what’s wrong.” But, dude! Sometimes you have to use words that might point out someone’s inability (“Don’t say, ‘inability!’”) to comprehend certain sounds (“Don’t say, ‘sound’!”). Whatever.

Like Bill Cosby once said—“ “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”

Terminology is a personal thing. You gotta go with what feels right. If a certain person requests you use a certain word, then use it. What do you like to be called? Me? I prefer “Michele.”

UH-HUH. OH-I-SEE. SURE.

There is a certain give and take in the Deaf community regarding how the deaf work with the interpreters. One of the ways that a Deaf signer can acknowledge that he or she understands what was just said is the old-fashioned head nod.  This doesn’t just take place with interpreters, but whenever conversing in sign. It’s kind of like the equivalent of  the “Uh-huh,” “Sure,” and “Oh,” used in verbal conversations.

When I’m out chatting with a fellow deafie, that comes natural to me. But it’s never really come natural to me with interpreters. Well, I guess it depends on what’s being talked about.

Just as some hearing people have a hard time keeping their eyes open in a long church service, I often have a difficult time nodding incessantly during the sermon. Yes, I understand. Yes, I understand. Yes, I understand. AAAAHHHH!!!!! It drives me crazy!

Yesterday, I was at an appointment for my daughter. It was her, my hubby, and me, and then there was an interpreter. I’ve worked several times with this particular interpreter, so she kind of knows that I tend to just sit there sometimes (usually when my brain is fried from too much external stimuli). However, the professional we were with had never used an interpreter before. At least I’m assuming.

Not only did she stop quite often to explain to the interpreter things she didn’t need to know, but, after virtually every one of her sentences she would stop and look at the interpreter. Then, when the ‘terp was done signing, the pro would turn and stare at me. She was looking for…you guessed it…a head nod.

So basically, yesterday I was forced to nod my head more than I usually do. I’m very sore. I think I need a chiropractor. I don’t know which was more painful, nodding my head every 45 seconds or pretending I was listening when I really wanted to take a nap. (Some of us deaf folk are pretty darn good at sleeping with our eyes open.)

GILBERT GRAPE'S MOTHER HAS NOTHING ON ME

One of my very favorite movies is the Johnny Depp film, “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?” If you’ve never seen it, shame on you. Now, go out and rent it immediately. In the movie, Gilbert’s (Depp’s) mother weighs on the upside of 500+ lbs. She doesn’t really ever leave the living room and, in fact, hadn’t left the house in years. The husband is dead, so all of the kids work to constantly serve her and the family’s needs.

While Gilbert is pretty embarrassed about his mother’s size, he understands that kids are curious. So, when little kids ask if they can be boosted up in order to look in the window and see the “circus lady,” Gilbert gives them a boost. Then they run off with their friends, bragging that they’ve had the chance to see her. And so it goes…… (Oh, there’s a whole lot more to the movie, in case you’re wondering and have never seen it. Seriously, go rent it. After you finish reading this blog post, of course.)

Stepping away from this movie and into my life, there are a few similarities. No, I don’t weigh 500 lbs, though sometimes I feel as if I do. But there’s something about me that fascinates the kids in my neighborhood. Can you guess? Yep. I’m Deaf.

Wow! Amazing! Right here in Grand Rapids, folks! You think you’ve seen it all, but have you? Because you haven’t lived till you’ve seen the deaf lady on the block! Check her out. Who knows? You might even get lucky and catch her moving her hands around. She does this to communicate in an alien fashion. That’s right! She can express herself with simple hand waves and code! Step right up to the window, ladies and gents. Let’s take a gander!

Two days ago, my daughter met a new kid on the block. Apparently a family has moved into the apartments across the street. I don’t know how the subject came up, but my 11-year-old told the new girl (age 12) that I am deaf and it just blew her mind.

I didn’t mind that at all. I mean, I am deaf. I’m not ashamed. Besides, if they become friends, she needs to know. But what happened next was a bit on the “whoa” side. Standing in my living room, signing with my husband (we were having a small argument), I glance outside to find a small group of kids have gathered on the sidewalk outside my house. I looked at them and they stared back. Finally, I waved and then dramatically shut the blinds.

No harm no foul till I finished our discussion and happened to look up. There she was…the new gal…with her face plastered against our front glass door. Apparently shutting the blinds didn’t deter her. She was gonna see the “show” one way or another.

Seeing that I knew I was already a bit upset because of the argument, I wasn’t prepared to see her there and I admittedly got upset and yelled at her as I shut the door in her face.

So, now I have a new family across the street that must be terrified of me. Us “death” people (as we’re commonly known) are downright scary. And now she’s seen it as a fact. All I need to do now is gain 300+ lbs and pick a spot in our living room. I’ll make sure to pick a spot that is visible from the window though. Just as long as I can sell tickets. 

SHARING MY DEAFNESS -- "The Hazards of Working the Drive Thru"

Checkers. She wanted Checkers for lunch. Or in some places they call it Rally’s. But what she wanted was definitely those spicy french fries slathered in warm, saucy cheese and bacon. But it’s July. I mean, man, it’s hot outside. The last thing I wanted to do was park and get out of my air conditioned car. But she said, “Please,” so sweetly. It was the least I could do, right? No way. It was too hot, I tell you.

“I’ll help you in the drive thru,” Mollie signed to me as I weighed the options. I mean, sure, I could have gone through the drive thru and just told them at the window that I’m deaf and need to order face to face. But I’ve never been one to test waters. So, I took her up on her offer.

There I was, face-to-face with the speaker and depending solely on my 14-year-old to let me know when to speak.

“I need an order of french fries with cheese and bacon added, please.” I spoke into the speaker as best I could, but apparently they couldn’t hear me or understand me (one of the two). I repeated. Mollie said they still didn’t get it. I raised my voice, “I’m deaf and I’m going to pull around to window and order there.” Don’t know if they understood me that time, but it didn’t matter, because I was taking the initiative.

Pulling up to the window, the girl inside looked extremely confused. When she opened the window, using the same decibel level I just got done using at the speaker, I shouted, “French fries!!! I need french fries!!”

The girl stared at me, looking totally flabbergasted. She then left to take care of my order.

Mollie gently placed her hand on my leg. “Mom? Do you realize that you just screamed at the top of your lungs at that girl?” So that’s why she looked so shaken. I’d just blasted both of her eardrums out. But we got our fries. Yes, indeedy. Sure, the girl will be deafened for a good two hours, but I had to do it. I needed those fries. Offering her the name of a good ENT, I paid the girl.

“Sorry if I screamed at you,” I sheepishly said.

“What???” she screamed back. Hmmm. I guess my work here is done.