Day 1
It’s so hot in Texas. Standing in the parking lot, waiting for my parking shuttle to take me to the airport, I’m already sweating at 6:45 in the morning. Was the shower even worth it? Will it matter to my seat mate on the plane that I used deodorant or not? As sweaty as I am by the time the shuttle driver gets to my row, I’m beginning to think not. I’ve had this driver before. I honestly think he’s a robot. His posture is impeccable. His hair is as orange as Kool Aid used to be, before they took all the groovy dyes out of the mixture. He never smiles. He always comes to a complete stop at every stop sign. He meticulously organizes every suitcase on each shelf on the bus. He always uses his legs to lift the bigger ones. Never bends at his waist. Never moves forward without buckling his seatbelt. I haven’t seen him actually breathe in or out. I’ve got my suspicions about his origins.
The TSA line again is filled with people who not only have never flown, but apparently never been outside of their own home. It’s as if they honestly believe the TSA agents are speaking a completely different language. “Take off your Apple watches. The scanner is alerting to Apple watches today. Take off your Apple watches.” Everyone who walks through with their Apple watches still attached to their bodies look honestly surprised when they have to take it off. Again, I’m there early enough to not be frustrated by the delays in front of me, but I can imagine the TSA agents don’t feel the same as I do.
My flights, both of them, were on time. My connecting gate in Atlanta is 10 gates away from my arrival gate. The only issue I had with today’s travel is the ever-present cretin who uses their speaker phone to have their phone conversations. Not only that, but also that they sit right next to me while they do it. I honestly don’t get it. Why do they do that? I flew into Reagan in DC. It’s been a while since I’ve done that and I always forget that it looks like we’re gonna make one of those “unlikely events of a water landing” that the flight attendants are always warning us about. Luckily, I’m sitting just outside of Steerage, where there’s never enough lifeboats. I might make it out. This time.
I got into DC with enough light to go see all the monuments, but I used my daylight to scout out my route to Ingrid’s home, to make sure I don’t get lost tomorrow. So much history in this area, I don’t know if I will be able to focus. I’m sure my actual job will help me stay on task.
Day 2
Even though I made it to bed at a decent time, I woke up confused about my whereabouts. I do have a slightly different room than usual, but it doesn’t remind me of my home for the week. I had to look at my calendar for confirmation that I’m in Adelphi, Maryland, which is just across the Potomac River from our nation’s capital.
Sometimes, the hotel sees the name “Leader Dogs for the Blind” on the reservation and automatically assume I need an accessible room. This one is accessible to folks with hearing impairments, not visual impairments. As far as I can tell, the only actual accommodation in this room is the option for a doorbell that makes the lights flash at the same time. I don’t know if it would vibrate the bed, too, but it might be fun to try.
Turns out, my hotel is only 8 minutes away from Ingrid’s home, which will be very handy. I met her and her mother and we all got to know each other a little bit before heading out on the street. Ingrid has 4 degrees and speaks fluent French. She’s in transition between jobs and is looking to clean up her travel skills enough to make her a candidate for a guide dog. She’s been to campus for O&M, and is looking to really push herself to be as independent as possible in her home area.
VD: Using a white cane, Ingrid walks along the sidewalk on a neighborhood street.
Our first route outside is one to the nearest bus stop to her home, and serves to prove that the world is not straight, or flat, or square, or level. People who are blind or visually impaired have a hard enough time walking a straight-ish line, then they encounter street crossings that don’t even remotely come close to lining up, or winding sidewalks, or yards that look like a drunk monkey is in charge of the landscaping. Pull your trash cans in folks. As soon as the garbage truck comes by, if possible. Maybe buy an edger, a trimmer, and a blower and take some pride in keeping your part of the sidewalk clean and tidy. Like I said, it’s hard enough without dodging the car you left parked over the sidewalk. The world is bigger than you! Aarrgghh!
Ingrid, having had Orientation and Mobility (O&M) on campus, means that I’m not gonna have to teach skills. I get to work on specific routes. The route to the bus stop is a challenging one, but Ingrid is game. Very game. The crossing to get to the bus stop is extremely challenging, especially when her only opportunity to cross (as it’s designed) has traffic coming across the intersection towards her. You really gotta have nerves of steel to step out into the street with traffic bearing down on you, but Ingrid does it. I do my best to give all the drivers my best stink-eye, threatening them with all my virtual vitriol, and everyone yields like they’re supposed to. Ingrid and I begin our walk back to her home and have a discussion about which direction, uphill or downhill, burns more fat. I proclaim that it’s obviously uphill, but Ingrid insists on downhill. She’s got 4 degrees to my 2, so I concede the point. Either way, we burned a lot of it today. There’s more flat ground in the Tetons than there is on that route we just finished.
VD: Ingrid stands on the escalator stairs as they move down into the train station.
Day 3
We’re gonna take a train today. DC Metro is a pretty robust system, and Ingrid is really aware of how all the routes work. Some have changed and/or expanded since she’s lived here full-time, but she’s still a great resource. She knows which train we need to take to get to the shopping center at which she’d like to work today. It’s another complex travel environment, with escalators, turnstiles (although they’re a far cry from actual turnstiles), intermittent light changes, and trains on both sides of the tracks. Ingrid has an app for her phone that works for her transit pass and knows how the system works enough to use her phone to scan and get her through the gates. People around us are really nervous watching her enter the escalator without any assistance from me. I always wonder what people think of me as I stand back and watch my clients do things like this. I’m sure they’re wondering what my purpose is, just standing back and observing, sometimes even taking pictures with my phone. They’re returning the stink-eye I gave them yesterday.
VD: Ingrid walks through the turnstiles in the train station
We’re only going two stops away today, but getting out of the station is just as complex as getting in. The mostly glass walls and skylights cast long shadows on the floors, playing havoc with Ingrid’s remaining vision. Even with my urging to hold her head up and use her vision for what’s coming next, those shadows can look like the Grand Canyon. Trusting your cane is great, but it takes A LOT of getting used to. Holding your head up has so many advantages (most of which having nothing to do with your vision): predicting what’s happening out in front of you, better balance, better straight-line travel, better posture, etc. but it’s much easier said than done.
We finally get out of the station, across the pedestrian bridge, and into the mall. Yes, the mall. Y’all know how I feel about malls, AND there’s no Orange Julius, so I’ve already mentally checked out. Ingrid is motivated by hand sanitizer at Bath and Body Works and, luckily, even a person who’s survived a horrible accident and completely lost their sense of smell can track down Bath and Body Works by it’s aroma. It’s strong, strong, strong. Ingrid goes to it like a moth to a flame. The same could be said of me around a bookstore, or an Orange Julius. Just not here. There’s no bookstore here, either. Goodness gracious…
VD: Ingrid stands waiting on an empty train platform with the sun shining brightly behind her at the entrance to the tunnel.
Ingrid has a problem. She purchases enough scented hand sanitizer to sanitize a small country. She even bought me some. One is supposed to smell like flannel. I’m not sure about that, but it does smell kinda like clean laundry. We go from there to Lids, a hat store, because Ingrid’s looking for a Washington Nationals cap that matches her nails. More on that tomorrow.
Kate, my culinary maven, has suggested a place to eat over in Silver Springs. The food was fantastic, keeping her streak alive. Roasted chicken over a plate of rice and black beans. There was a green sauce on top of the chicken that was worth the drive and the ridiculous parking that seems to define Silver Springs. Yikes. But the food. Man! It was great. Nice job again, Kate!
Day 4
During our initial interview on Monday, I mentioned to Ingrid that I was a baseball nut and planned on seeing the Nationals sometime this week after we were done working. She asked if we could make that part of our work together because, as it turns out, she’s a big fan of baseball as well. Thinking it out, Ingrid’s goals included public transit: Check. Crowd work: Check. Complex intersections: Check. Escalators: Check. So many other parts of this trip into DC fit into what she wants to do. Plus, going to a baseball game when she feels like going to a baseball game is freedom. It’s independence. It’s life. Why not? Y’all have read about my baseball games in previous trips with clients to Pittsburg and Chicago. Why not DC? This just makes sense.
VD: Ingrid walks with her white cane outside of the gate of the baseball stadium Nationals Park. She is wearing sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap.
Knowing we were gonna be out later, we started a little later today. Train station into DC. Not a bad walk to the stadium, but some pretty complex intersections and increasing crowds the closer we got to the stadium. We got there about 3 hours early because I wanted to buy tickets from a real human being and not over the phone or using an app. I wanted to talk to a person and ask them about the view from the seats and stuff like that. Ingrid also wanted to ask about accommodations they might provide like audio description or accessible seating. We found out that Nationals Stadium does not provide the audio description but do have a robust selection of accessible seating. These are usually at the top of each section in the park and are designed with a little more room for access for folks in wheelchairs. They’re also closer to stairs, exits, restrooms, and other services, so they’re very handy for a bigger population than you might first think.
Ingrid did a lot of research online about where to get a good chili dog and we found it right before going up the escalator to our seats. (My culinary maven, Kate, is a pretty clean eater, but I think even she’d approve of a good chili dog at the ballpark Ben’s Chili Bowl. Strongly recommend.) I wanna let you know that Ingrid did all this on her own, with very little intervention from myself. People at the ballpark gawked just as much as they did at the train station yesterday as she made the trip up the escalator on her own. Again, I’m just standing back watching her like everyone else around.
We got to our seats just in time to sing the National Anthem. (Despite this time frame, we got inside the stadium as soon as we were allowed to. Plenty of time to watch the grounds crews prepare the field which would make my father, Bill Stafford, very happy. We always got to games as soon as they’d let us in the stadium. He loved watching the grounds crews. My Uncle Bob would also approve this strategy. Most of his family might not agree…My Uncle Bobby is a coach and would also approve of being early to any and all games. My Uncle Terry was basically born watching sports, so I’m certain I’d have full father/uncle approval of our activities tonight. We also stayed until the very end. No leaving early. You never know what might happen and, Dadgummit, we paid good money for these seats! Not gonna waste any of it.)
VD: Ingrid poses in the stands at the ballpark, smiling big and holding her white can with the baseball field in the background.
The home team didn’t do so well, but we enjoyed a nice night in nice seats in the outfield. The Nationals have been officially eliminated from the playoffs this season, so the stadium was pretty empty which, at any other time, might be sad. The lack of people in attendance, though, allowed Ingrid to be able to hear a lot of the game that she would have probably missed if it was louder. Things like the crack of the bat on not just solid hits, but foul balls. She could even tell the difference between hits and foul balls after listening to them for a couple of innings. She could hear the pitches hit the catcher’s mitt: the slap of the ball into the leather on a fastball, or the thump that often accompanies a breaking pitch. She could even hear the action in the visitor’s bullpen. I got to nerd out with all my baseball knowledge. Ingrid promised to tell me if I was talking too much, but she never did tonight. It was a really good night, great weather, and a great O&M lesson. I could write a LOT more about our time at the stadium, but not everyone’s a baseball nut like me. If you’d like to hear more, I’d be happy to tell it all over again. Deal?
Day 5
Mainly because I’m usually in bed by the time the 7th inning rolled around last night, this morning feels like it occurred way too soon. I do love baseball, and last night made 18 stadiums I’ve been to. 18 out of 30. My dad took my brother and I to our first Major League baseball game at Arlington Stadium to see the Rangers play and I’ve been trying to get to the rest of them ever since. I gotta make a trip through California and Florida, Arizona, Kansas City, Cincinnati, and Toronto. Also, that other stadium on the south side of Chicago. I’ve considered visiting every stadium except that one, but that would be an uneven number which would drive me crazy by itself. It’d also be an unfinished task, which I’d really like to finish, but mostly it’s the uneven number thing.
VD: Ingrid descends a set of outdoor stairs using her white cane. A row of shops is behind her.
Ingrid and I are headed to a shopping complex where her mother has a lot of doctors appointments. She’d like to feel more comfortable navigating around to the other shops during her mother’s appointments. Now, in my family, my mother and her sisters don’t let anyone go to the doctor alone. Someone always goes along to ask questions and takes notes. They don’t play around. Anyway, we explore the Dollar Store next door, the rest of the shopping center, and the Dunkin Donuts in the evil, evil parking lot. America runs on Dunkin.
We go from there to the intersection nearest the center and it’s a doozy. 7 and 6 lanes across, slip lanes (dedicated right-hand turn lanes) on two corners, and busy, busy, busy. Ingrid really wants to feel more comfortable analyzing the more complex intersections, and she’s gonna get her wish here, for sure. You can really see how much her confidence has grown since Day 1. She’s analyzing more quickly and stepping out there with confidence. We made a lesson out of grocery shopping and got back across the intersection to finish the challenging day.
Kate, my culinary maven, suggested a place called Milk & Honey over in College Park, where the University of Maryland’s main campus resides. Ingrid has mentioned this place as well, so I’m feeling pretty good about it. I had a beautiful bowl of shrimp and grits. I really, really like Kate…
Day 6
Bus day. We’re finishing like we started. At least a little bit. We’re not only locating the nearest bus stop to Ingrid’s home like we did on Monday, but also taking the bus for a round-trip to make sure Ingrid is aware of all the stops. The weather has been great all week and, although it’s STILL not Texas hot, it’s super humid today. The whole D.C. area is built on basically a swamp (no pun intended) and it’s usually very east Texas-like. This week, it’s been in the 80’s with very low humidity. Just beautiful. Today, the humidity rose like the Phoenix from the sands of the desert and swallowed us. It was tortuously humid. My neatly pressed Hawaiian shirt looked like a balled-up handkerchief about 20 minutes into the trip.
At Leader, on Fridays, we celebrate Hawaiian shirt Friday until the weather necessitates a switch to flannel shirt Friday. I do my best to show solidarity even if I’m not on campus. I also wear red on Friday. R.E.D. for Remember Everyone Deployed. I started doing it when I worked at the V.A. hospital. Plus, I really like red. And Hawaiian shirts. So, it’s a win-win-win for me. Anyway, it was humid, and felt like I imagine Hawaii might feel if there were no island breezes. I got to spend two weeks in Grenada with the Peace Corps several years ago, and all my friends told me how cool it would be on the island with the tropical breezes. I spent my time there dragging an oscillating fan behind me, looking like a hospital patient out for a stroll. Island breezes – Ha!
Where was I? Oh, right. The bus. We took the bus over to a shopping center that Ingrid frequents. She displayed her knowledge of the system and the area by having a conversation with the driver about where we were along the route. Ingrid is naturally curious and conversational, but it also helps the driver to not forget she’s there and remind her when we’re at the stop she requested when we boarded the bus. This is an excellent technique that I didn’t even mention to Ingrid. We didn’t even discuss it beforehand, so I don’t know if she did it specifically with O&M in mind, or if this is just how she does things. Either way, it worked and we got off near a Target.
Looking at our bus stop on the way back, we noticed that there was no crosswalk to get across the street running alongside the shopping center. The road was also curved and on a slope, which didn’t give cars a very long line-of-sight. We asked a law enforcement officer about the crossing and he told us that no police officer would stop us for jaywalking, which is not the information I was looking for. We thanked him and went on about our business. With just a little more exploration, we located a marked crosswalk at a light-controlled intersection that was just out of sight due to the curve and slope of the road. Crisis averted.
The bus was nicely air-conditioned, so I was delighted to get back on. That is until we made a stop at the local high school at school-gettin’-out time. Kids in uniforms got on until I thought the bus wouldn’t hold any more humans, and they kept getting on. You could tell that they were used to it, but I was not a fan of being that close to people I don’t know well. Literally armpit to armpit, and bless their hearts, the folks on either side of me got sweaty ones. It got to the point that the bus driver had to halt the incoming flow of humanity. I fully believe they would have sat on each other’s heads if the driver had allowed them access. Another bus would be by in approximately 20 minutes but, especially when you’re a teenager, you’ve got more important things to do than wait for another bus.
This also brought up another interesting question: How in the world were Ingrid and I going to disembark the vessel? Well, the bus driver, another one with whom Ingrid had been having a casual conversation during the ride, was our Noah on Day 41, making all the animals disembark in front of us. Then he was our Moses as he instructed all of them to spread out along both sides of the sidewalk so we could get to the corner. I really think he would have left the 99 to take care of the 1 (2 in this case), parted ways with the air conditioning, and walked home with us if we’d invited him. It was truly cacophonous on the bus, and delightfully peaceful off it. (There’s some Old and New Testament references there. If you’re not familiar with them, read your Bible more!)
One thing I know about karaoke is that you should sing songs you already know. Karaoke night is not the time to learn a new tune. Ingrid, on the last route of our last day, decided to sing a song she didn’t know so well and took a new route back to her home. She’d planned this all along and decided to not tell me until the end because she knew I’d bring up the karaoke thing all over again. She did very well, as I would expect her to do, and we made it home just fine. I still feel very strongly about the whole karaoke analogy, though.
My culinary maven, Kate, suggested another bougie place to eat tonight, but I opted for a shower and a “casserole” of all my leftovers from the fridge. I usually portion things out pretty well over the week, so I had plenty to eat, but it might not have made any meal planners happy. It was quite the menagerie, but it worked.
Written by Barry Stafford, certified orientation and mobility (O&M) field representative.
