transabled.org

 

• About
• Login
• Contact
• Accessibility

Google Search:
Web transabled.org Go

 

Home / Stories / Bronwyn’s fateful weekend

Bronwyn’s fateful weekend

Written by Sean on Monday, February 12, 2007

I hope you enjoy this bit of fiction. It is somewhat different than my usual stories, and focuses more on eye impairments than any other story I’ve written to date (pun intended). As usual, please feel free to give me feedback (comment feature is good for that ;) ).

Thursday evening

Bronwyn went over her checklist in her head, thinking of everything she needed before her long weekend. She had just finished packing her suitcase, and was about to call a taxi, but wanted to make sure that everything would go well. It was going to be her first unsupervised trip to Chicago, and she was somewhat nervous about it, exploring a city she had never been in, with no one to rely on. She had all the documentation she would need, from the hotel’s address to the plane reservations, as well as the shuttle’s phone number in case they didn’t show up to pick her up.

She went to her home office, picked up the phone and dialled the number to a taxi company she didn’t usually phone. She felt around her desk for a few more items she was going to need, grabbed them and made her way back to her bedroom, to pick up her suitcase. Bronwyn extended the handle and pulled the suitcase behind her to the lobby. She reached the door, then reached to her right, and grabbed the big wrap-around dark sunglasses from the small shelf beside the door. She put the glasses on, then reached for her keys.

She waited for the taxi to pull up in the driveway and honk before opening the door and going outside. She didn’t want her neighbour to see her leaving, and they might have wondered about her long white cane. She opened the door, cane forward, then pulled her suitcase behind her. She turned around, grabbed for the door and pulled it shut. She heard the taxi’s door open and the driver step on the stairs, coming towards her. "Here, lemme help you with that", the driver said, taking the suitcase away from her.

He also grabbed Bronwyn’s arm and started pulling her. She stopped dead in her track and told him that he should let her hold on to his elbow rather than dragging her. She asked him to go down the ramp, as the steps were rickety and uneven, and difficult to navigate. Bronwyn could hear the engine running. She fully expected the driver’s door to still be open, but there were no doors opened. She found the handle, opened the door, folded her cane, and climbed in the car, glad to finally be less noticeable.

"Where to, miss?", the driver asked as he sat behind the wheel.

"The airport Marriott please", Bronwyn asked, further giving instructions as to which roads to avoid. She knew the airport run should cost her about $25. She didn’t intend to have yet another cabbie steal her blind. She snorted at her own mental pun.

Bronwyn relaxed and enjoyed the ride. She quickly lost track of where they were. It didn’t matter, they would soon be at the hotel, where she would spend one short night before her flight to the Windy City early in the morning. 4 days full of adventures, four days of recreation. She was going to catch a piano recital, she was hoping to enjoy Blues and BBQ, go out dancing maybe, she wasn’t sure yet. She might even meet someone to have a fling with for one short weekend.

The car has been stopped a while when the driver asked her if she was going to pay "or what?". She pointed out that she had no clue they had actually arrived at destination, asked how much the ride was, and was satisfied to hear she owed the driver $23.75. The moment she stepped out of the taxi and unfolded her white cane, she heard someone introduce himself as the hotel porter and ask her if she needed assistance with her luggage and checking in. She gladly accepted, and took the offered elbow. She loved the Marriott, of all the hotels she had been to, that chain seemed to "get it" better than most. It was never perfect, but it was better than most places.

She was given a paper to sign, confirming she accepted the hotel charges. She asked to have her hand placed on the signature line, and signed as best she could. She always wondered if someone would try to put more charges on her card, since she couldn’t verify it until she’d get the invoice.

"Here’s your key, you’re in room 1008. We just moved you to an accessible room to make your life easier", the front desk clerk told her.

"But I don’t want an accessible room," Bronwyn said. "I made a reservation for a particular room, and that’s the room I want. I don’t need an accessible room. In fact, your accessible room is dangerous for me, with no tub, and a wide area that gets wet and slippery after a shower. Better keep the accessible room for someone in a wheelchair, and give me the room I know well already".

After apologies, she was given the key card to room 2203. She asked for a wake-up call at 5:30am and for someone to come pick up her luggage at 6am, so she could take the 6:15 shuttle to the airport. When asked if she needed more assistance, she answered that she didn’t, that she knew the way, and headed straight for the elevator banks.

Once in her room, she oriented herself, making sure they hadn’t changed the layout of the room. Satisfied that everything was still where she expected it to be, she settled in the room, making sure to keep things packed, except for her bag of toiletries which she laid on the right of the bathroom’s basin. She ordered room service, a simple burger with fries, turned the television on, and laid back in the bed. She listened to the tv, not sure what program it was, but enjoying the mental puzzle.

Her food arrived, she gave a generous tip to the latino boy who had delivered it because he had been very nice and his voice was sexy, and sat down to eat. She put a big paper napkin in the neck of her blouse, knowing full well it looked silly, but she didn’t want to end up with a stain on her clothes right at the start, and eating a hamburger with all its sauces could get messy when you didn’t see what you were doing.

After dinner, she pushed the trolley out of the way. She struggled a bit with juggling the somewhat heavy door and trolley to leave it just outside her room. Bronwyn made her way back to the bed, and "watched" television a little bit longer. It was the news, which she never really followed, but it was one way to pass the time until bed time.

She finally decided to take a shower before going to bed for the night. She wouldn’t have time in the morning, and besides, she preferred being clean when she slipped naked between the sheets. As she was getting in the shower, she remembered she still hadn’t taken her glasses off, so she did. She left them next to her bag of toiletries. After her shower, she finished her night routine by brushing her teeth. She had never gotten the hang of putting toothpaste on her toothbrush, so she just put the tube in her mouth and squirted a little toothpaste. "It’s not like anyone else is using it", she thought. She left the eye patches on her eyes for the night, giving herself a chance to have fresh rested eyes before using her opaque contact lenses later on the trip. After all, it didn’t matter since no one could see her. "Tomorrow, it’s show time, and people might see my eyes that have clearly no vision left in them", she thought to herself.

Friday morning

She woke on the first ring of the phone’s wake-up call. She had slept lightly, but unlike the other times she was anxious during the night, she couldn’t wake up every so often to check on the time, as she couldn’t see the clock. Bronwyn hadn’t gotten around to getting herself a tactile or a speaking watch. She wasn’t blindsimming enough to warrant it, besides, she never wore a watch anyway as she couldn’t stand to have anything rubbing her wrists.

Bronwyn’s left clouded eye.

She went to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. She made sure the light was turned off, by feel. She found her contact lens case, and washed her hands, then took off the right eye patch. Even though the light was turned off in the bathroom, the door was shut, and the blinds were pulled in the bedroom, after so many hours of darkness, it felt like it was bright as if she was outside in the mid-day sun. She promptly put in the scleral contact in her eye, and sighed happily at how comfortable it was, and how completely and naturally it blocked vision. She could tell the difference between light and dark when she wore the contacts, but that was it. She followed the same routine for the left eye, and smiled, finally ready to face the world. Her contacts had been made custom to her specification, covering the entire sclera, so people couldn’t tell she was wearing a contact. She had provided a close-up photo of each of her eye for the artist to use as a base, and then told the company to make one look "a little cloudy-looking but natural", and the other "completely cloudy" . She wasn’t sure why it had been important to her that her contacts retain a similar colour to her natural eye colour, but there she was, with completely opaque contact lenses that looked natural, and someone looking at her would only be able to tell that she had a problem with her eyes. Of course, that would be if she didn’t wear her sunglasses, which she wouldn’t. She only wore the sunnies to hide her eye patches. When her eyes looked natural, she wanted the world to see her unseeing eyes. She wasn’t too sure why, it just was.

She put her toiletries away, got dressed in the same outfit she had worn upon arrival in the hotel, since she’d only worn it for the taxi ride to the hotel and the evening. It wasn’t long before she heard a knock on the door, and when she asked who it was, a man said that he was the porter, come to take her bag downstairs. She asked what time it was, and the porter said "I’m sorry miss, I’m afraid I’m a little bit early, it’s 5 minutes to 6." He asked her if he should come back, and she said that she was ready, that it was ok. She grabbed her purse and her cane, and opened the door. Bronwyn heard him hold his breath for a moment, obviously surprised that she was blind.

They made their way to the hotel’s lobby, and she gave the key card back. The porter waited for her, then offered her his arm to go to the shuttle, which was right on time and waiting for her.

As she climbed in the shuttle, the driver asked her which terminal she wanted, and informed her that she was the only passenger, so she had the benefit of his undivided attention. "Well, good on me", she thought as she shrugged. "American, internal departures please", she asked the driver who joked "we’ll be there in a blink". Bronwyn thought "everyone’s a comedian", but didn’t make any comment.

They arrived at the terminal a few minutes later, and Bronwyn asked the driver if he’d be kind enough to actually guide her to the counter, since he didn’t have other passengers to worry about. He appeared pleased to help, and they made their way through the airport. She was amazed at how many people were in the airport so early in the morning. There were many sounds, children giggling, children crying, the squeak of a luggage cart going by, some announcements on the speakers that she couldn’t figure out, snatches of traffic coming through the automatic doors, the horn of what she believed was a luggage train, or perhaps it was a passenger assistance cart, she wasn’t sure. She used to be scared by all the noises she couldn’t identify, but had come to thrive on them.

The shuttle driver told her "here we are miss", and left her to her own device in the queue. She stood there, white cane standing straight in front of her, her suitcase standing right behind her. When she heard a shuffle in front of her, she’d move a little bit forward. In no time at all she heard someone calling to her and telling her that the window was available. She made her way towards the sound of the voice, bouncing her cane against a suitcase here and a soft bag there. She had expected the obstacle course.

Bronwyn was asked for her name and destination, and for her driver license. "I don’t have a driver’s license, " she lied " will my passport do?". The passport was accepted, her seat confirmed, and arrangements for someone to accompany her to the gate were made. The woman at the counter sounded put off that Bronwyn didn’t have someone with her to assist her, as if she shouldn’t have been traveling independently, but Bronwyn just shrugged it off. By the time her suitcase had been tagged, she’d been given boarding pass and luggage receipts, someone was behind her, ready to guide her to the departure gate.

After an uneventful walk through the terminal, her guide let her settle in a seat near the desk, and assured her that someone would take her to her seat on the plane when the time came. But after a call for passengers needing assistance to start boarding, followed by a call for passengers in the back rows of the plane, she realised she’d been forgotten, and asked out loud if someone could take her to the desk. A young man offered to help, pointing out that they were barely 10 feet from the desk.

"Excuse me," she said to the desk " have I been forgotten? I was supposed to get on flight #73 to Chicago O’Hare, weren’t you going to board me with the other passengers needing assistance?".

"You were supposed to present yourself at the desk when we made the first boarding call" the agent explained.

"How was I to know that, when the airline staff who guided me here guaranteed that you would come and get me when it was time to board? After all, it’s not like I can see announcements on the boards, or know where to go in this zoo" Bronwyn said, getting aggravated.

"Oh, I’m *so* sorry, " the agent said, "I didn’t realise you were blind. Please come with me now".

Bronwyn wondered how the desk attendant could have missed her white cane, her "clouded eyes", and the fact that there was a note in the system about her need for assistance. "Who’s really blind here?" she thought with a mental shrug.

They seated her to the right of a young girl. "I’m a UM", proudly said the girl who sounded to be about 10 years old.

"What’s a UM?" asked Bronwyn.

"Means I’m a uncompanied miner." the kid explained.

"She’s an unaccompanied minor." the flight attendant corrected.

"Whatever… " the kid said "that’s a cool cane, can I touch it?" she asked Bronwyn who handed it to her, cautioning the kid to be careful.

The kid had all kind of candid questions about using the cane and not seeing, which Bronwyn gladly answered. The flight attendant thanked her for keeping an eye on the kid.

The rest of the flight went by without incidents, and soon after (considering the city’s traffic) landing in Chicago, she was settled in her room in the Chicago Marriott, right on the Magnificent Mile. It shouldn’t be too difficult for her to get around where she wanted to go from there.

Friday afternoon

She went down to The Bean for a relaxed lunch (smoked chicken panini) and a coffee. She could hear snatches of conversations, sometimes in English, sometimes not, sometimes about her, sometimes not. She enjoyed this form of people watching, she enjoyed wondering if people were looking at her or not.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon making a few phone calls to confirm tickets to a show she was going to later that evening (to be picked up at the hotel’s front desk, it turned out), and just relaxing. Flamenco music and dance at the Auditorium Theater at Roosevelt University. She’d been there before, and knew that the theater was spectacular, as well as acoustically brilliant. She wondered what people would think of a blind gal going to a dance show, but flamenco was about much more than dancing. Besides, she could hear the dancers, creating a rhythm all of their own. It was going to be good, she knew. She had originally wanted to go see Daniel Barenboim play Chopin’s Nocturnes, but he was apparently focusing more on his directing work with the Chicago Symphony than soloing.

Friday evening

Bronwyn prepared to go out. The show started at 7:30pm, she was hoping to be at the theater by 7:00pm, in order to make sure to get oriented and settled comfortably. She was changing into something more dressed up than she usually wore. She knew the outfit she had chosen looked stunning on her, and she’d likely attract quite a few stares between the dress, the cane and the cloudy eyes. The best part was that she wouldn’t be able to tell who was looking at her and who wasn’t. The dress also had the advantage that it would not look out of place in a semi-dress up restaurant, or a nightclub. Shoes with a low heel. She rarely wore heels to start with, but really didn’t want to have really high heels when using her cane. She had skipped make up, not that she needed it generally, but applying makeup was just a bit difficult when you couldn’t see what you were doing. She did however apply some red lipstick, she could do that with her eyes closed, of covered with "blind" contact lenses!

She planned to have a late BBQ dinner after the show, and depending on how she felt after that, was hoping to go out clubbing. She might even meet someone nice!

She made her way to the hotel’s lobby and took her time to find the front desk. She remembered the general direction she had come from after checking in, but it was still a bit of an experiment to find the place by herself. Part of the adventure. She asked for her ticket, which were handed to her rapidly.

"Could you call a taxi for me please, as well as tell me what time it is?" she asked once at the counter.

"It’s twenty to 7, and we’ll get the concierge to flag a taxi for you immediately."

She thanked the lady and waited patiently for the concierge to come get her. "Things are working out nicely, good timing", she thought.

Cab right at night in Chicago.

The cabbie was of Easter European origins and his accent was very thick. She had a hard time understanding him, and he appeared to have a hard time understanding her. She was a bit concerned that he wouldn’t know where to go. Her concerns proved to be wrong as they arrived at the concert’s venue in no time at all. The driver was curious to know how she could tell just how much money she’d given him, and how she would tell if the change was correct. She explained that she knew which bills were in her wallet by the way they were folded, and that she trusted him not to steal from a blind woman. He didn’t say a thing after that.

After making sure the driver had dropped her right in front of the entrance, she stood outside the car for a moment, trying to identify where the sounds came from. Traffic behind her. Voices on her right and left, and strong chatter noises straight ahead. There would have been many people here tonight. She took a couple steps, and immediately a man that she imagined elderly by the sound of his voice asked if she needed assistance. She thanked him and asked if he could help her find an usher. He agreed, and told her "please wait for a moment while I tell my wife that I am leaving her to spend the evening with a much younger and prettier woman". His light chuckle told her he was indeed only joking and that they must have a good relationship if he could joke like that.

They walked leisurely as he made sociable chit-chat, and weaved through the crowd. Bronwyn found it difficult to get oriented in the hall. The ceilings were high, the surfaces were hard (all marble from what she recalled from a previous visit), and with so many people, all the sounds were bouncing off the walls, floors and ceiling and became a jumble, making it near impossible to tell her direction of travel. "Ah ha! I see one of the elusive ushers out there." said the gentleman whose name she still didn’t know.

He handed her to the theater staff and wished her a good evening. She thanked him profusely and urged him to return to his wife lest she really believe he’d taken off with her for the evening.

The usher asked for her ticket, which she handed to him. "Ah, but miss, your ticket is for a completely different concert!" he said. "WHAT?!?", she exclaimed. And the usher promptly apologised for having made a bad joke. He said that she was indeed at the right place and time, and that he’d take her to her seat. Bronwyn was less than impressed, and asked for the usher’s name, intending to make a written complaint after she returned home. The man was apologetic and tried to make up for his jest, not quite managing it.

She was seated, folded her cane, and prepared to wait patiently for the show to begin. A few minutes later, she heard her elderly guide’s voice, exclaiming about such a coincidence, they were to be seated next to her. His wife apologised for his exuberant demeanour. Bronwyn said that there was nothing to apologise about, he was a perfectly charming gentleman. "Yes, he’s quite good at fooling you, " the man’s wife said "until you marry him and then he shows his true colours". Bronwyn heard a good belly laugh come from beyond the woman, indicating that the woman had seated herself between her husband and Bronwyn.

Bronwyn couldn’t tell how long the wait had been for the show to start, she was having a thoroughly pleasant time with this older couple. But they said that the lights had been turned off, so the show should begin soon. "I couldn’t tell about the lights", Bronwyn said. The man laughed at her joke, saying she was fitting right in.

The show was as good as she had expected, but she had a hard time believing she had actually spent over two hours listening to music. But there they were, the music had stopped, they had done three encores, and the crowd was leaving the building. Her friendly neighbours guided her back to the front of the hall, and helped her hail a taxi, a task that took quite a while. It seemed like everybody in the theater were jockeying for position at the taxi ring. Finally, she was in a taxi, she had said her ‘goodbyes’ and ‘thank you’s’, and told the driver to go to Smoke Daddy on Division St.

"Oh, that’s a good choice for good food and music miss", the driver said. She thought he was likely an older African American man by his voice. She’d never know for sure. "I believe Urban Hog Wranglers is playin’ tonight, they’re pretty good", he added. He was zigging and zagging smoothly through the evening traffic. He told her that although he really shouldn’t do so, he was going to park his cab and guide her inside, just to make sure she made it safely. She thanked him, and made sure to give him a big tip. It was getting to be expensive all this extra tipping, but it was deserved for those good folks going above and beyond.

Once they had parked, she opened the door and the smells of smoke and BBQ assailed her. She imagined the wind was blowing the smoke from the smoker’s chimney just right. She realised just how hungry she was. She started salivating at the thought of a good BBQ, which she hadn’t eaten for so long.

The maitre d’, who had been working at Smoke Daddy since before creation itself, said that he could sit her immediately at a table, but the view of the stage was very limited. Bronwyn smiled, told him that as long as she could hear the music without problems, the view was irrelevant. The maitre d’ said that was fine, he had just wanted to make sure, and not make assumptions. He explained his brother was legally blind and using a cane, but could see just enough that when he came to eat at the restaurant, he wanted a table near the stage, to be able to "see the action".

The band wasn’t on yet, but she enjoyed the music coming out of the speakers. It made quite a change from the Flamenco she had been enjoying at the theater, but she figured there was nothing like having eclectic tastes in music. She thought that she would encounter yet more musical genres before the end of the night if she did indeed go clubbing. As she was seated at her table, the maitre d’ offered her a braille menu. She apologised and said she hadn’t learned braille, and asked if he could tell her how big the slabs of ribs were, and what sides were available. She finally settled on a half slab of BBQ ribs, with a side of coleslaw and some cornbread. She also ordered a big glass of iced tea.

The band began playing moments after she had given her order. Once more, she marveled at the good timing of almost everything that was happening to her this weekend. Obviously the band knew the place, and everything was setup, because they didn’t waste time in adjusting anything, they just started playing immediately. Yet more good timing.

Her food arrived surprisingly briefly after the band started. She asked the waitress for several paper napkins, explaining that she wanted to protect her clothes. The waitress said that they had "bibs" specially designed for protecting the patron’s clothing from the very "lethal" (to clothes) BBQ sauce. Bronwyn gladly accepted the offer of a bib. "If other people are using them, I won’t be the only one to look silly", she thought. The waitress returned and offered to assist her with putting the bib on. She accepted the help, and asked what the bib looked like. "It’s about 1 foot wide by 2 foot long, and orangey-red. Really simple", the waitress explained.

The meat was tender, falling off the bone. The flavours were intense, the smoke a little acrid, but not overpowering, spice tingling the mouth, softened by a certain sweetness, all tastes were well balanced. No wonder this place had been in business for so long, and that people kept coming back. The ’slaw was all right, creamy though, and she preferred vinegar based coleslaw. The cornbread was excellent. The iced tea seemed to be the perfect drink for such a meal. She struggled to finish her half slab, and congratulated herself for not having ordered a full slab.

Replete, she leaned back in her seat, took off the bib, and wiped her hands on it. When the waitress came by to remove the plate, Bronwyn asked for directions to the bathroom. "It’s quite a maze to get there actually.", the waitress said. She offered to guide Bronwyn to the facilities. She made mental notes of her steps so she could at least try to get back to the table. Sometimes, being unable to see was beyond challenging. She washed her hands, did her thing, and washed her hands again. The waitress had waited for her and accompanied her back to her table.

Bronwyn considered letting herself be tempted by a Banana Puddin’, decided she was just too full, but ordered a coffee to finish her meal, to give her something to work on while she enjoyed the rest of the musician’s set.

When the waitress approached her to offer a coffee refill, Bronwyn accepted and asked for the check. She had ants in her pants and wanted to go dancing, now that dinner had settled a bit, and the caffeine was taking effect and revitalising her. The maitre d’ came by with the check, and took care of payments. He accompanied her to the door and offered to call a taxi to get her to her next destination.

"Yes, I’d appreciate if you could do that for me." she said. "I’m going dancing next, and I’m thinking about going to the Funky Buddha Lounge, do you know if it’s any good?"

"I truly don’t know." the maitre d’ said as he called a taxi.

They made small talk while waiting for the taxi. Once again, she didn’t have to wait very long. She thought about how expensive it was to have to rely on taxis rather than being able to easily use public transit.

Another taxi ride at night in Chicago

She gave the cabbie the name and address for the bar, and let herself be driven. She asked him to drop her off near the entrance of the bar, and to assist her in getting the bouncer’s attention, which he did. While polite and pleasant, he was not a chatty man. Perhaps he was uncomfortable near a blind woman, or perhaps he was just a reserved person. Sometimes, there really was no way to tell.

The bouncer began to tell her there was a $20 cover charge, but interrupted himself half way through. "I didn’t realise you were blind." he told her. "Go on straight in, don’t worry about cover charge, nobody will know".

She didn’t usually like abusing her "blind privileges", but sometimes, she just took what was offered. "After all, a $20 cover is rather steep to start with." she thought. "Why, thank you" she said to the bouncer who ushered her inside.

Music was blaring, some Afro-Pop with a good beat. The place sounded active. The Funky Buddha prided itself on its clean air atmosphere, and she was really pleased to smell that they weren’t bragging. She let herself be jostled and bumped against people, going this way and that, occasionally asking in which general direction was the bar. When someone said "that way", she just walked on a bit further, and asked again, until someone would say "to your right", or "straight ahead".

She finally bumped into the bar, and managed to find a seat at the bar. She folded her cane, put it in her large purse, and waited. Eventually, someone shouted "waddayawant?" at her, and she ordered a drink.

She had just taken her first sip when someone tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance. She told him that she was planning on dancing, but not right away, she wanted to enjoy her drink first. The guy didn’t say a thing and apparently left. She fended off a couple other people by the time she was two thirds through her drink.

She heard a faint "clink" and sloshing sound, and a voice that she assumed was the bartender told her that a gentleman had ordered and paid for "the same as what she was already having". She reached for the new glass, lifted it in the air, and smiled, in silent thanks. She couldn’t tell who had purchased the drink, she hoped that he wasn’t waving at her to get her attention! She finished her original drink in one long gulp and had a short sip of the new cocktail.

"I’m glad you didn’t turn down my offer of a drink." a warm voice said in her ear. He was leaning into her gently to be heard over the roar of the music and the conversation. She enjoyed the sensation. He introduced himself as Mark, she told him she was Bronwyn. They made small, but loud, talk while she continued on the drink he’d given her. Eventually he asked her to dance, and she gladly accepted. "You’ll have to guide me to the dance floor though, take my hand so we don’t get separated." she told him. He asked her why should he have to guide her, when she told him she couldn’t see.

"You’re joking, right?" he said?

"No, I’m not joking, blind as a bat, see the cloud over my eyes?" she told him, staring in the direction of his voice.

"Awww man! That just ain’t right, they shouldn’t let you people out like that. What the f*** is wrong with the bouncer to let cripples in all night" the guy said.

Bronwyn got really angry and was about to respond something curt, like "piss off" when a woman told her not to bother, that he’d taken off.

"I’m Debbie, but everyone calls me Debs", the woman said. "This asshole was hitting on me earlier on, and also asked me to dance, but I turned him down. It’s just too hard to dance for me sometimes. See, I’m a bilateral leg amputee. He didn’t believe me when I told him. He thought I was just blowing him off. So I lifted my pants and showed him my prosthesis. He was taken aback, and left me there and then, just like he took off when you told him you were blind".

"What an asshole." Bronwyn concurred.

"Hey, do you want to go somewhere more quiet for a chat and a drink?" Debbie asked Bronwyn, who agreed. Debbie placed herself in front of Bronwyn, offering her elbow. "Here, grab on to me, we’re going for a short walk", she said. The walked, bopping along with the music, and soon Debbie was saying "Make space for two helpless disabled women please". Bronwyn heard some shuffling and felt Debbie turn her around. "Ok, just sit down behind you. Careful, low couch. I’ll be right back with drinks, I’ll get this round, you can get the next one".

True to her word, Debbie was back in a few moments. She sat down next to Bronwyn. "Sitting down is easy, gravity takes care of that, getting up is a bitch though!" she told Bronwyn with a smile in her voice.

Bronwyn learned that Debbie-just-call-me-Debs was a Chicago gal, born and bred, that she had lost her legs below the knee when a drunk driver had bumped her off from her Harley, that she worked in a service organisation for people with disabilities, and that she tried to go clubbing at least 4 times a week. Bronwyn told her she was just visiting for a weekend, that she didn’t go out very often, that she worked in Orientation and Mobility (O&M for the initiate).

They really hit it off well, and found many points in common. Debs announced she was going to get another round, but it was Bronwyn’s turn to pay. Bronwyn gave her the money, and waited for Debbie to come back from fighting the crowd, which she could distinctly hear in the distance. She guessed they were in a side room, off the main dance and bar area.

Debbie came back with the drinks, and they resumed the conversation. Bronwyn felt Debbie get close to her and put her arm around her. "You don’t mind, do you?" Debbie asked. Bronwyn didn’t respond out loud, she simply snuggled in to Debbie’s shoulder and smiled. They continued chatting. Eventually, they kissed. They talked some more. They kissed some more. They heard whistles and cat-calls.

Bronwyn told Debbie that she’d had a very eventful and long day, that she was going to head back to her hotel, that she felt things were clicking between the two of them, but that she’d like to take it easy, and perhaps do dinner tomorrow, talk some more and see if tonight’s attraction still held, then, who knew what would happen for the next three days? "Yeah, ok. I’m a bit disappointed, I’m hot for you *now*, but I’m looking forward to dinner and maybe more" Debbie said.

They exchanged numbers, Bronwyn giving Debbie her room number at the Marriott, and her cell phone number. Debbie helped Bronwyn back to the exit, and called a taxi for her. One last kiss, and Bronwyn was on her way to the hotel, where she promptly took her contacts out, put eye patches on, undressed, took a shower and went to bed.

She fell asleep, a smile on her lips, looking forward to the following day.

Saturday morning

She woke, remembering the previous night. A quick call to the front desk informed her that it was nearly 11am. She had slept well. She called room service and ordered a half melon and a plate of Eggs Benedict, with a coffee pot of plunger coffee. She remembered she was wearing her eye patches, and fumbled around for her purse, where her wrap-around sunglasses were stored. She put the sunglasses on, grabbed a robe and went back to bed.

A knock at the door, followed by "Room service" said with a Spanish accent. "Come on in, it’s opened" she said. "Oh miss, it’s so dark in here, let me turn the light on" the attendant said. He apologised as soon as he saw her, asking if he should turn the light off. She told him that she didn’t care one way or the other, as she couldn’t see either way.

Half way through her melon, the phone rang. She picked it up, it was Debbie, who was afraid that she’d been given a wrong number. They agreed to meet in at 3 in the afternoon at the fountain in Grant Park.

Bronwyn finished her breakfast, the Hollandaise sauce on the eggs was just a bit too salty for her, but not too much to be unpleasant.

She then went and showered again. She was still wearing the eye patches She somehow felt safer taking a shower in the dark. She wasn’t sure why, but she’d always felt that way since she had been a wee girl.

She decided to wear sensible footwear today, she would be walking a fair bit. She’d walk from her hotel to the fountain, and then who knew what would happen. More walking in one afternoon than she’d have done at home in months.

Saturday afternoon

Since she had eaten her breakfast rather late, she skipped lunch and headed for the street, and walked towards Michigan Ave. She quickly got in a rhythm, going fast, but not so fast that she risked tripping on anything.

After several blocks, she smelled the odour of fresh mown grass. She loved that smell. She thought she had probably reached Millennium park but asked anyway. Sure enough, she had just reached that park, the first of a series of green areas before Grant Park. She thought she was making good time.

Blindly going through construction.

Her cane encountered obstructions in the way. She carefully tried to get around and walked on a plank of wood, which she assumed to be plywood. Construction probably. Chicago was well known for constantly renovating streets and pavement, damaged during the harsh winters.

She walked a couple more blocks. Didn’t realise she’d reached a street corner, but slowed down when she heard traffic going the wrong way. She stood there, in the street, uncertain for a moment. She heard someone yell behind her "Watch out, get out of the way". She then felt someone bump into her and she fell forward. She didn’t feel the pavement hit, as she was hit by a car before reaching the ground. She immediately knew something was wrong with her, she thought she’d broken her back. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was too shocked to even scream in pain.

She heard someone say "Call 911, quick". She heard someone say not to touch her, not to move her. She heard someone say "She had a white cane, is she blind?". She thought she’d faded in and out of consciousness, when she had renewed pain in her back, shooting all the way up to her brain. She saw flashes of white light, even though she couldn’t see. Someone was speaking to her, explaining that they were the ambulance crew to get her to the hospital.

Riding in an ambulance

Strapped and immobilised, she was driven to the hospital, where, dazed with pain, she had to explain to the doctor about her contact lenses, that she wasn’t actually blind. She proudly stuck to her cover story, that she was an O&M instructor (true) that had been challenged to use her skills for an independent weekend in a city she didn’t know (not quite true). They were puzzled, but took her word for it, too concerned with what was going on with her back to care one way or the other about some foolishness with weird contact lenses.

She was rushed to the operating room, and told that they had to do surgery to try and stabilise a bad fracture in her back, and given papers to sign for consent.

The last thing Bronwyn remembered before going under the anaesthetic was that she had finally gotten her dream, her need to be paraplegic, and smiled at the irony that due to her blindsimming, she might actually be the person she needed to be, that she would actually physically need the wheelchair she’d been using nearly full time for the last five years. She was happy. In pain, but happy. Then, she knew nothing more.

Thank you to Amy Casseaux for her several stories, parts of which inspired parts of this story.

[tags]Blind, Blindsimming, Cane, Wheelchair, Eye, Paralysis, Story[/tags]

Twitter Updates

Follow me on Twitter