Tag Archives: restaurants

SHIFTING SANDS:My Much-needed Trip to Myrtle Beach Part 3

Posted on by John

Friday, May 3. I awake a little after 8 AM, because I love listening to a local radio morning show as this is one of the best ways to get a feel for the area. I can kind of simulate this on my phone with apps like OoTunes, although it’s not quite the same given that I just go in and select the city I want and find a station. And it can be hard to tell if the station is actually in Myrtle Beach and not, say, Wilmington North Carolina. Ah, sometimes I miss my good ol’ analog walkman. I suppose I need to poke around and see if I can find something that simulates that closely enough.

Anyhow, I find a station, Mix 97, that I think is local to Myrtle Beach. The only thing they really talking about was the latest celebrity gossip, but this probably stems from the fact that I didn’t find it till nearly 9. The earlier you catch the show, the better.

We head out of our hotel room just after 10 to one of our Myrtle Beach favorites, Hot Stacks. It’s an area chain of breakfast restaurants that, as far as I can tell, only operate in Myrtle Beach and North Myrtle Beach. On this trip, I go with the sausage omelet and plain grits, eschewing something they have called Trash Grits. I would get these grits on Saturday, and they were actually much better than the plain grits as they had sausage gravy and flecks of some kind of meat in them. I joke with my wife that if they’d shredded napkins and straw wrappers into the grits, we the customers couldn’t really be surprised. We have that weird sense of humor. Hot Stacks also has delicious coffee, nearly on par with that found at Waffle House.

After eating, I get to explore again with my GPS apps as my wife heads over to the Carolina Pottery to check out some arts supplies. She’s made quite a business making rag wreaths, wooden signs and the like in particular and selling them via Etsy and Her website. If you’re into that sort of thing, check it out. At this location, she finds some hard-to-locate ribbons.

After a short jaunt back to the room to get ready, we head down to the beach with my cousin and his wife for the best part of the trip. The sun is dealt out in just the right measure, with clouds thrown in so we don’t become too toasty. My cousin and I sit on the shore and chat about our similar fields of employment. He is also an assistive technology training instructor, as many of us blind folks fortunate enough to have good jobs are. I just hope our work is starting to give people the skills to open more doors, though the larger change must happen at a societal level, as still too many think non-working eyes means incapable of work.

Anyhow, our wives frolic in the water as the tides roll in. Mine says she is nearly knocked down by a big wave and decides to migrate inland. I join her briefly in the surprisingly warm surf, heard the news say it’s unusually warm which portends a bad hurricane season. Let us hope not.

We wrap up our time waterside in a deliciously warm hot tub. Only I, genius that I am, neglect to take off my shirt as I enter the water. This made for a fairly cold, drippy walk back to the room. Y’all, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Beach time is chill time, so we sprawl on the couch a bit while watching the news before heading out for supper. We join our other couple for dinner, tonight at Giant Crab. They mainly have a buffet, which is kinda pricey at $48 a plate. But it is also pretty good. I have two crab cakes, two servings of mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and shrimp. As we eat, we all allow some of our unique marital inside language and jokes to come out. This is one of the joys of being with someone for a long time, the unusual way we come to understand the world and create our own world.

And finally, we head to my cousin’s room on the 16th floor, where we spend a little more time on their balcony and then inside of their much nicer suite. The balcony is up so high that the ocean is a little more muffled. And that cool breeze starts to get to me after a while, because yup, no long-sleeved shirt. But overall, the night and my trip were just the vacation I needed. They help to reset my perspective as I continue to try and help people broaden theirs.

SHIFTING SANDS: My Much-needed Trip to Myrtle Beach Part 2

Posted on by John

Isn’t it funny how much easier it to wake up wen one is planning to travel? Heck, I also find it hard to sleep, mostly because I am and will likely always be a big kid.

After Wednesday’s tire craziness, we had decided we would wake at 10 AM. I am up by 8. I make my way to my mancave, taking care to grab my hearing aid kit (if I forget it I could have a very long trip indeed as it dries out wax and other moisture) and start packing. I try to remember to get a little of everything, jeans, shors, button-down shirts. But the one thing I don’t get and should have is a long-sleeved shirt. Hey, I can’t remember everything.

Before hitting the road, we make a stop at that venerable Southern institution Bojangle’s. The sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit they give me is actually tender and well cooked, and I’ll admit that this can be hit or miss as sometimes they’re hard and not very fresh tasting. But my favorite, the seasoned fries, really hit the spot. I settle in and prepare for the roughly three hour trip.

A big reason I love travel is the ability to discover. I have three GPS apps, and they all give me slightly different information as we zip through small North Carolina towns. Good ol’ Ariadne, in addition to being the one that produces maps I can tour with my fingers, tells me the exact street addresses and even some of the neighborhoods, if they are labeled. BlindSquare makes it easy to see GPS coordinates and nearby restaurants. And the Goodmaps Explore app displays real-time information on changing points of interest as we move, to a degree that BlindSquare does not. It can almost be too much information, but it is also fascinating to really get a look at what we’re passing.

Not that we passed too much as we wound down I-40 and Johnston County, to I-95 and Cumberland and Robeson Counties. Just over the South Carolina line, after passing through a town called Taybor City (Columbus County) on the NC border, we kind of lose the direct, interstate route and are forced to navigate a series of backroads until we finally arrive at Myrtle Beach proper, in Hory County.

We arrive at the Sea Watch resort at nearly 1:30, having made good time. We enter the North Tower lobby and are jostled about by excited passersby as they to get ready to enjoy their journey. Seasoned traveler that I am, I have my credit and ID cards out and on the counter practically before the person checking us in asks for them. We are given room 712 in the South tower, which in itself is 16 stories.

I remember during our last trip out of North Carolina prior to this one, way back in January of 2020 (because of Covid) we walked through an endless hall in a Tampa boutique hotel called West Wing and had a ta-da experience upon entering an amazing, large room. This room, while fairly large, was… let’s just say a lot less ta-da-ish. My wife said it still appeared stuck in the 90s, with a dirty landline phone (ever seen one of those?) rusty hangers in the closet, and spaghetti sauce droppings in the kitchenette. The Sea Watch is really a collection of condos, or rooms that different people owned, so you get a lot of variability from property to property. But then as someone on my Facebook said “you ain’t going there for the room.” True enough, though of course one still likes to have a place that makes one feel safe and comfortable.

Anyhow, we shuck our “road clothes” and don waterwear, me putting on a pair of shorts for the first time this season. But we don’t remain oceanside too long, because even with our nice new beach chairs, snacks, and cold water, the heat soon wins. Well I am not really too hot, mostly because I’m never hot. But I knew my wife had to be getting toasty with the sun remaining out, and I know that even if I’m not feeling hot I still have to be careful of sunburn and heatstroke.

Our evening wraps up with what is now a regular pilgrimage to Paula Deen’s Family Kitchen, this time joined by my cousin and his wife. A lot of fellowship is had, with conversation having been improved by the kind hostess who saw to it that we were seated in our own section to accommodate my cousin’s and my hearing difficulties. While we chat, I scarf down some delicious meatloaf, the best fried okra I’ve ever tasted, and macaroni and cheese that was pretty decent (I’m a harsh macaroni critic). Oh, and the biscuits that arrive before the family-style entrees get there can nearly fill you by themselves, so eat with care. I don’t even need dessert after this meal.

And that makes up my Thursday. It is very much the kind of day I need, as I fully emerge from Winter’s lingering effects. And there is more where that comes from on Friday.

Dashin’ Round The World: My Food Delivery Ride Along

Posted on by John

As a blind person I have enjoyed the rise of food delivery services such as Door Dash and Uber Eats, as they give me more options than pizza if I need a good mea and no one is available to transport me. I am aware of the controversy that surrounds such services, and particularly their somewhat fraught relationship with restaurants. I hope though that the paring is beneficial enough, as especially proven to be the case during this protracted pandemic period. I for one don’t even know how much money I have squirreled away grabbing things new and long enjoyed.
What I hadn’t really known is how the experience is for those who do the legwork for these businesses. Until my wife decided to become a Dasher. This is what Door Dash calls its food couriers, I guess trying to be humorous and, more importantly, to indicate the supposed speediness of the food’s transmission to its recipient. She initiated her run in this position yesterday, and I rode shotgun just to see what was what.
First, she rolled into a parking lot near one of the busiest areas of Cary, called Crossroads, powered down the engine and launched the app. Dashers use a special app that instructs them along the way as they make each delivery. The time then was shortly before 4:45 PM, and upon being asked how long she wished to continue she indicated that 6 would be her stop time. I do like that they allow you to set this, as it allows you to remain in control of your day and know when you might want to be done. It seems easy to get lost in delivering and have several hours go by before one knows it (well sort of, as dwindling supplies of expensive gas would also alert you, but that’s another post).
Anyway, the only thing she had to do then was await an order. And it didn’t take too long for the first one to roll in. A woman wanted three items from China King, which was less than two miles from our current location. This order was immediately available when she went inside, and so she snagged it and slid it inside her insulated bag. Then, she used the app’s built-in GPS to navigate to the customer’s apartment. The challenge here is that since it doesn’t allow you to use Google Maps, you can’t interface it with Android Auto. So she couldn’t view navigation instructions on the screen, and will thus need to get a phone jack. The apartment we needed to reach was also not far away and the delivery contactless, so she completed that and got another order right away.
The second person wanted six items from a Mediterranean restaurant called Kebab Skewer. Maybe he was having a party? There was a little more of a drive getting to this location and to the guy’s home, was very nice
with a couple of floors and a garage. She did wave to him through the kitchen window, but was able to leave the food there for pick-up.
It was already about 5:40, so we deduced that this third order would be the last one. It was to be from a place called Totopas. She had initially rejected it, but then determined that she was already relatively close to the location and chose to accept it. The only thing this customer, a woman who seemed to be a college student, wanted was a Vegan taco. This surprisingly took a little longer to be prepared, but she got it and we headed from Kildaire Farm Road in South Cary to her location not far from NC State University in Raleigh. This was a decent apartment that required a key fob to enter the building, but had no buzzer for would-be arrivals to press, so she had to call the person once she was there to make the exchange. This went without a hitch, and we were done.
On the whole I think she found the experience to be satisfying, and maybe even enjoyable. The income was decent, of course it would be better if the affore-mentioned gas weren’t through the roof. But I guess if one has the patience for it and doesn’t mind a little driving, it’s an acceptable way to hustle. You can turn down orders that you feel are too far away, and of course you can stop and start whenever you want. Now that I’ve seen how things look from that side, I feel a little better about utilizing these services, with the already noted caveat regarding how they might or might not benefit restaurants. Anyhow, that was a different experience for a Saturday in a time and period that has largely been monolithic. We’ll see what new fun I can get into in coming days.

FRIENDS CAFE: A Summation of the Rest

Posted on by John

Well, as it turns out, not a whole lot happens after Sunday. But, that is alright, as I very much needed the unwinding.

Ok, I am certain that I bring drippiness with me on any vacation I take. Just as happened to me last year when I went to Tampa, I really don’t get any sunshine down in Louisiana.

Monday: I wake at about 9, bringing in the day the same way as I had before. Just laying back, listening to 105.9, a soul station in Lafayette that someone has recommended I check out. As I do this, I read yet more of the Armstrong book.

After coffee and biscuits, we basically collapse into the rockers and sofas where we remain parked for nearly all day, listening to a TV country station. Well she doesn’t remain parked, actually. Despite still feeling yucky, she leaves to get the car ready for the return trip to New Orleans and grab us some yummy food. She brings us back a huge plate of chicken strips with fat fries and an unusual dip.

Other than this, I simply revel in the idea of just being, worrying about nothing except inhaling and enjoying the next breath, and of course cool conversation that comes and goes as we please.

On this day, as we had some on the day prior, we talk about the differences between the US and Australia. We conclude that while blind people may generally have more opportunities here, both of these fine countries still have work to do before their citizens with such disabilities really have a shot at the job and life choices they want. He is an advocate in the land down under, and I in many respects have come to see him as a sort of mentor, at least someone to whom I could look up to. I want to be a louder voice in this grand community, but have to get better at getting my voice heard. I think maybe I’ll get there fairly soon, but that remains to be seen.

I also make a silly comment about life down under.

“Everyone in Australia is upside down!”

“Upside down?” he asks.

“Yeah, relative to us. Isn’t that odd?”

This amuses us both. I hadn’t really understood what was meant by the phrase “the earth is round until I was 17 or so, due to someone’s patient explanation of how it is in fact like the globe I’ve felt many times.

On Monday night, we do watch the movie God Is Dead. It is an interesting story about a college professor who attempts to get his philosophy class to declare in writing and by signing their name to it before class starts that God doesn’t actually exist. One student refuses to do this, and is thus thrust into a semester where he must present evidence to the contrary. The movie is fast moving, and yet still thought-provoking.

Early Tuesday: We have initially planned to go to New Orleans’ French Quarter, so I wake by 6:30, not knowing at what time things will get started. But he has had trouble sleeping the night before and she is still dealing with this sickness. We soon learn that it is the flu, of the type that can’t be stopped with this season’s vaccine. I’m amazed I’ve managed to avoid it thus far.

Anyway, because of all these things, we don’t actually leave until nearly 12 PM. They decide that, due to the likely crush of traffic, cold weather, and general lack of time, we will go ahead and head for the airport instead. This is ok, it just means I have to plan another trip down to stop by and thoroughly tour New Orleans, probably when it’s warmer out.

On the way to the airport, we make what turns out to be a crazy trip to a place called Brick Oven Pizza. The GPS first leads us around the block, then up onto an unnecessary road that takes several minutes to traverse. I am surprised she doesn’t just give up.

Finally at the restaurant, I get an Italian personal pizza with sausages, peparoni, mozzarella, and some veggies. I manage to eat half of it, allowing the server to wrap the rest in see-through plastic in the hopes that maybe security won’t throw it away.

Then off to make the somewhat sad trip back to my humble abode. Though I resist it at first, I finally allow these people to put me into a wheelchair and zip me to security that way. That always makes me feel silly.

I check out some generally boring bowl games until it is time to board the flight at 6:20 for a 7:00 departure. The couple beside me, I think the woman is American and the man Mexican, are headed to Miami to visit family. Ah, how I long to go down there and stay for a week or so.

On my next flight, from Atlanta to Raleigh, I meet a woman and her mom who are returning from a wedding in Fort Meyers, Florida. I would go there as well. This kind woman offers to assist me both onto and off of the aircraft, probably getting appreciative nods and smiles from tired agents and flight attendants.

Finally back at Raleigh Durham International Airport, I have the individual who comes to collect e from this woman take me outside where I slide into a waiting airport taxi. When the driver is unable to understand the address I try to give him, I just plug it into my phone and have my GPS issue the directions out loud. This isn’t a bad idea actually, as I can then be reasonably certain that we are taking the expected streets and I’m not getting the runaround. I mercifully get home at 1 AM, message all who care to let them know I’ve made it, and slide under the covers.

And that is the end of my wonderful trip to the state of Louisiana. As I said earlier in this entry, the question isn’t if but when I will return. Heck, maybe I’ll go and find my wife there. Ha, ha. That wrapped 2014, and I am ecstatic to see what kinds of excitement 2015 has in store. Hope your year has gotten off to a good start. More probably quicker than I know.

FRIENDS CAFE: Zydeco 1, Tight Crowds and Dancing

Posted on by John

I think this day was the climax of my trip, in many respects. I had a lot of fun, got to enjoy a new kind of music, and expand my food repertoir a bit. Not to mention bouncing around a jam-packed building with random people.

Saturday, December 27

6 AM, Having already plugged the hearing aids in so that I wouldn’t miss the household’s early rising, I am called to action by a light knock at the door. Time for their usual coffee and morning chat. I have fun with this, feeling the correct balance being restored to my “caffeine stream”. It is no wonder that coffee is a multi-billion dollar industry in this country.

Feeling even more refreshed after a quick shower, I and they are relieved to discover that the deluge of rain (supposedly 7 inches) that had been forecast has really turned out to be more of a slightly unpleasant drip. I guess that we were going to give it a go anyway, given that we’d be leaving early and were bringing along the appropriate gear to protect said hearing aids, but definitely not having to deal with that kind of craziness is preferable.

Into the car for the fairly short road to a town northeast of Lafayette called Breaux Bridge. I’ve heard of this place, because former Carolina Panthers quarterback Jake Delhomme originated here. We are visiting not for sports though, but for their famed music, called Zydeco. According to the Wikipedia article I read, this musical genre is fairly distinct to Southwestern Louisiana, and was invented by African Americans and Creoles in the area. The article goes on to state that the first recorded instance of this term (Zydeco) was by a country western group in 1929 called the Zydeco Skillet Lickers, and they had a song called “It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo”. Ironic title for our day’s likely outcome.

Our intended destination is a jumpin’ place called Café des Amis, from which I generated my title for these posts. Not only the building but its surrounding area are about as full of people as can possibly be, and then some. We have to connect to a long line and hope that maybe we will get inside. As we wait, we make friendly chatter with everyone around us.

“Do you know them?” I often asked the woman of our group, referring to the people to whom she speaks.

“Nope,” she replies: “I just started talking to them five minutes ago”.

Yup, it’s just that kind of place. Once inside, I even get to enjoy a little of that randomness myself when a woman pops out of the rocking masses and asks to dance with me. If I do this right and have chosen the correct photo, always an adventure for a blind man, you should see us standing there. IMG_1736 And now to something I do know for sure what I doing, I recorded an audio clip there as well. Great music and great musicians, Leroy Thomas and the Zydeco band. I hear they’re always wildly popular.

Soon enough, a table opens up and we sit to have breakfast. You always have to eat fairly quickly, as there are people pressing in on those seats as soon as you’ve finished. I opt for a yummy sausage, egg, and cheese croissant and some grits, I think, along with a glass of orange juice. I also try a piece of beignet, which was delicious. It tastes like a funnel cake that has been stuffed with eggs and such.

Once we finish, we prepare to exit this particular café. On our way out though, we come across someone to whom I am introduced who also happens to write a blog that focuses pretty heavily on travel. I like that the URL is A Road of My Own, and the title is Traveling Solo. I ask my friendly host a couple of times if she had known of this before striking up that conversation, but as usual she hadn’t known this individual at all. This is a definite, good coincidence.

We then venture over to the Joie de Vivre café, as I guess many coming from our former location do. Here, the guy in my group strikes up a jam session with some of the other musicians there, his instrument of choice being the piano. Here’s a bit of that audio as well.

By about 1:30 PM, we decide to head home, where we mostly just chill for the rest of this day. Once both of them have drifted off for a nap, I sit on the little rocker and listen to sports for a good while. Then when the guy returns, we have a bit more of a conversation, before the woman returns and we settle in for some TV and good company.

For dinner we also have croissants, because she needs to get rid of them. She puts ham, cheese, and I guess mustard in them. Whatever the sauce inside, they are so good that I eat the two almost quickly enough to lose a couple of fingers. But then, what isn’t good down there?

This makes up the bulk of Saturday’s activities. I eventually retreat upstairs, turn on some jazz, and read more of the Louis Armstrong book. I think by this point, unfortunately, she is beginning to come down with something that may have been gotten from exposure to the swells of humanity, so we just lay low after this. More soon.

Another Durham Night

Posted on by John

A month or so ago, I got a notice via email that NPR’s Ask Me Another, a puzzle/comedy show, would visit the Carolina Theater here in Durham. I decided I would go, opting for mid-priced, and thus first of two balcony level seats. It took place yesterday, and was quite enjoyable.

First though, I had to visit a more recent but instantly respected local institution, Cocoa Cinnamon. I’d read an article way back when I arrived in the Bull City last February about how this place was started, I think by some Russian folks? I can’t exactly remember the story, but was inspired by the entrepreneurial spirit it suggested. It kind of made sense to go on this day, since the little cozy coffee shop was located only a few streets from the theater.

I got there at 4:15. The crowd kept ebbing and flowing around me as I leaned back in a comfortable, homely chair. The only issue I had was that there was little table space inside, meaning I had to hold the giant, two-hands-requiring mug aloft. This meant I couldn’t immediately use my iPhone, which ok ok was probably a good thing, as it forced me to enjoy the environment while I sucked down the vanilla latte..

And speaking of that, yeah the price was a bit up, but I suppose you’ll have that at a non-chain establishment. However, as I said I looked forward to actually supporting locals with good business sense.

And the baristas were nice as well. I remained there till around 6:30, and thus a different woman helped me with the cookie recommendation, a giant coffee-flavored confection, than I’d encountered when I entered. She was also kind enough to walk me outside and help get me into my Uber ride for the short trip over to the auditorium.

Last chance for a $30 trip! Use my Uber code to sign up: johnm1014).

The show started at 7, with the house opening at 6:30. I had to wait a couple of minutes to go inside, but was able to do so in the lobby that smelled of popcorn. My kind volunteer usher told me that the building has two entertainment auditoriums and a cinema where, well different, movies are shown. I think they like to air old stuff as well as pre-screening newer ones. I’ve also learned that that theater has been around for 86 years.

Even so, I was glad to see that this theater had an elevator. I could have of course walked up the stairs, but hopefully the lift would make it more wheelchair accessible. I’m not sure about the small steps that lead up to one’s seat though, but I guess they probably have an area where chairs can park before actually getting to said stairs.

I was told that the auditorium where Ask Me Another was staged holds approximately 800 people. Into my seat, I settled in and immediately sent my cane sailing away somehow. The woman to my right couldn’t initially see it, which caused me to panic. But luckily, it had just fallen to my left. I also enjoyed a short conversation with the guy on y other side, who said he was a great fan of the show but hadn’t known what Ophira Eisenberg, the show’s host, looked like; since he’d only listened to the podcast.

Things actually got started about 12 minutes late, I suppose not too surprisingly. Weekend Edition’s Scott Simon did the courtesy announcement “please turn off your smartphones,” then Ms. Eisenberg came onto the stage. She buttered us up, “Durham, are you ready to party!”, and told stories of predictable Southern hospitality as she walked through the grocery and on the street.

“Um, I wasn’t really sure how to react to that”, she thought in response to some such acknowledgement.

The house musician, Jonathan Coulton, worked the audience into a fervor with a silly song in which he instructed us to sing roughly in a way that represented whichever characters the song was referencing. Sadly, I couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying. That’s probably not much of a surprise, though. They definitely had fun with it, and the energy of the crowd made me smile.

Then, the official recording began. What we hear on the radio only lasts an hour, but it actually takes about two to complete. It begins with two contestants answering a series of crazy category questions. The first was “Are you ready to rumble!” in which all of the correct responses would end in MBLE. The competitors got into it, mumbling “are you ready to mumble?” sounding meak and quiet when saying “are you ready to humble?”, and the like.

The next category was sports teams. They would give some silly clue, and the contestant had to determine which college team was being spoken of. Everyone was kind of quiet as she mentioned this, till someone did the example, saying something that referred to the Blue Devils. More people boo’d than cheered, which amused me since we were definitely in Duke territory. I guess in the Carolina Theater, it was a partisan Tar Heels crowd. Well, of course.

“Wow, a lot of emotion there!” she laughed in response to the crowd’s reaction. “Everybody’s like blah blah when the category is mentioned, but when I ask you who’s side you’re on?…”

After another category of some kind, she interviewed a musician who now lives in the area, but is originally from California, I think. He’d lived in Iowa before arriving in Durham, and commented on the hilarity of being able to walk onto his driveway in barefeet on Christmas here. I’m not sure if I would do that, but well… They then asked him to identify a series of songs that had been altered lyrically in some way. More contestants then did this as well, identifying songs associated with states but who’s state names had been changed to more exotic locales “to bring about world peace,” according to the show’s proctor.

Intermission happened at roughly 8:30, and I got my exercise getting up and sitting down as people moved about along the extremely narrow steps. My knees were so close to the heads below me that I had to make a conscious effort to avoid knocking them against those heads repeatedly. It was fine, though.

The final round was on hills, in honor of Chapel Hill. They nearly ran out of questions to ask the two finalists, and so came down to a tie-break that gave the win to the first to buzz in and answer correctly.

So those are a few of the highlights I can recall. Overall, I really had fun and found it to be a fascinating experience. As someone else pointed out, it was interesting to hear Eisenberg go back at the end and re-speak short portions that the producers, through an earpiece I think, told her to smooth out. This particular episode will actually air on January 22nd, and I will probably listen to it to see how it juxtaposes with what I heard while live in the place.

Now, still looking forward to the live Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me taping I’m due to attend in Chicago. I guess that’ll happen sometime next year though. I want to do more other stuff like that as well.

But that’s a thing I really love about Durham: it’s small, but has good transit and enough umph to attract some pretty cool acts. We’ll see what else I can find indoors, to keep my mind off of the falling temperatures.

A Birthday, The Middle

Posted on by John

Happy Saturday! And a big birthday milestone reached for me, my 35th. (I almost typed 354th, but that would be something entirely different for sure).

The somewhat morbid side of me became curious: what might my life expectancy be. According to this chart in Wikipedia, which I’ll admit I don’t entirely understand, the US is 34th in national life expectancy rates, at about 78 years? My grandparents lived at least until their 80s, so presumably if I start to eat healthier than I do now I shouldn’t even be halfway to the end. In any event, 35 just sounds like a nice round number, and a good place from which to evaluate and take stock of one’s outcome thus far.

Things are certainly getting better for me. It was at this point last year really that I suddenly became much more familiar with my surrounding neighborhood. Probably since then, I’ve only been to Chapel Hill a handful of times. I’ve already written many times though about my treks to the strip of restaurants that contain Dunkin Donuts, most notably my Regulars post. I love this area, feel quite attached to it, and will remain here if I find desirable employment nearby. I think that may happen within my next year. Optimistic? Maybe, but so much momentum seems to be building.

For some time, I’d wanted to explore a local restaurant here in Durham. While I rail against the “chain”edness of everything, I still too often end up spending my money in such establishments. I must admit that this is because chains tend to be cheaper, and I have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to get.

Today though, I opted to finally venture over to Geer Street Garden. Located at 636 Foster Street, which I find odd as it is named after the street on whose corner it sits, its main claim to fame is “real, downhome food”.

Before departing, I attempt to look up the menu on the iPhone as I usually like to. It seems though that Google Maps is losing some of its accessibility, as loading it now causes my phone to act eradically at best. I get to where I can tap on the menu, but give up on trying to read it after it refreshes and throws me back to refreshes and throws me back to back to the beginning of the line ugh! I finally just opt to call and check on how crowded things are, as I usually like to do, then I summon my Uber ride.

(Wanna use my Uber code? Please? johnm1014.)

I arrive at the restaurant, and am asked if I wish to go to the outdoor patio. Of course! The night is nearly windless, and drier than I’d expected given the forecast of all rain. I’d also gotten lots of sun earlier therein, too. This of course improves my mood.

I sit at a small table, the loner table I guess, and listen to the people as they filter in. Kids running around the porch and screaming. Music playing. Me sitting there, attempting to play with my iPhone in the data dead zone.

The server comes over, and I quickly decide to have the lasagna plate special, with garlic bread and a side salad. For my initial drink, I have lemonade.

The salad is covered in balsamic dressing. This non-foodie thinks that’s a vinegrette? Whatever it is, it tastes like vinegar. There was mostly lettuce, carrots, and tomatoes.

The lasagna reminds me of what real lasagna tastes like. Piping hot, delicious cheese and sauce, and nice, real chunks of ground beef. I even enjoy the crunchy stuff on the side of the bowl.

And the bread? Oh, man. It has little peppers therein, and real garlic that somehow tops any garlic bread I’ve ever had. I savor each bite, mixing it with the last of that yummy dish.

Ah, I don’t like that their online menu is image-based, so I can’t review the kind of drink I had. I ask the server for something local, especially a beer.

“Do you like cider”

Um, I think so” I reply.

I think he tells me I am drinking something called Cristin’s Hard Cider? It tastes delicious, but more like a wine than anything. I am not really sure if it has much of an effect on me either.

Finally, I decide for dessert to have Keylime pie. I get that to go though, and as of the writing of this entry, I haven’t consumed it. I hope it will be good.

Another server, a woman, helps me back out front and waits with me while I summon my return Uber ride. We chat amiably for the few minutes it takes for the vehicle to arrive, and I am off home. After getting a bit lost in this sometimes confusing complex, I come back inside and call it a day.

This was a fun birthday, about as much as I could ask for as an adult. I like that I heard from so many old friends via Facebook and Twitter, and managed to make a couple of new ones. Very interested to see what year 36 will bring.

The Real Deal 4: Last Full Day

Posted on by John

Tuesday is already here? Man, how the week has flown.

I ring in the day again listening to a bit of that morning show. This time though, I turn it off at about 7, so I can shower and come back to listen to some of that day’s ACB General Session. I most enjoy listening to the scholarship recipients, as I hope maybe their career choices will inspire me to become unstuck somehow. Still thinking…

On Twitter, Indianapolis woman mentions she is at the Java Stop, s I indicate that I might come down and try to meet her. Given how incredibly crowded it is, I know that us actually finding each other are not all that high. However, I happen to be seated just behind her after purchasing a banana nut muffin and coffee, and she hears me arrive, thus scooting over to the small, rickety table. The woman from Canada then tries to find us as well, but this does not prove to be as successful.

We sit here for a few, chattering about all sorts of things. Then, we go to the exhibit hall again, mainly to pick up an iBill currency reader, but also to check out a couple of other products/vendors.

In place of fully accessible paper currency, which I’m pretty sure they’re still working on and think should debut no later than 2020, the US Bureau of Engraving and Printing is distributing the iBill free of charge to all blind folks who need one. They essentially had a trial run during the convention, allowing attendies to snap these things up in exhibit hall. The representative told us that they will be available for all blind folks by January, with those who are already eligible to use the National Library Service for the Blind (NLS) being able to preorder in September. I’m not sure what advantage preordering confers, but maybe they get them first?

So I can cheat a bit, now that I am at home and have unboxed the reader. The instructions are readable, and it doesn’t take too long to figure out how to work the thing. I put the money in wrong initially, though. I want to really learn the vibrations, as then I won’t have to have the thing call out “50!” when I scan that, not that I carry around that kind of cash anyway. Still, vibrating would be more effective in very loud situations as well.

After grabbing the box containing that device, they also ask for our contact info, we make our way toward others. I go over to the Freedom Scientific booth, where I play a bit with a Windows tablet running Jaws 16. They have a nice Bluetooth keyboard with that thing as well. I don’t notice anything particularly exciting about that, but I think it may be a bit cheaper than buying an iPad or some such. If I do go for a tablet, I will probably still get an iPad and Bluetooth keyboard anyway, maybe once this laptop is on the fritz.

I also play with a Blaze EZ, at least I guess that’s how it’s spelled. This is kind of a combination of blindness-specific notetaker and smartphone, and its most impressive feature is OCR technology. They scan a document and let me hear as the voice reads it. Apparently, these things have been selling like hotcakes.

Finally, we make our way back toward the lobby and food court, as she wishes to have lunch before attending a 2:00 event. There, we run into our Canadian friend, and the four of us head to Big Burger where I opt for just a soda as I will have dinner at 4:30 with yet another friend.

Since the woman from Canada and I are planning to meet the same person, she and I hang out for the next couple of hours. Neither of us really have anything else on our schedule. I am already starting to feel drowsy and somewhat sad.

Dinner is again at Wicked Vicky’s, a place with pretty good food for prices that aren’t too bad for hotel stuff anyway. Canada woman has me craving popcorn shrimp, but I decide at the last minute that I want one of their chili dogs. I figure I can get shrimp whenever I want, and that this hotdog is probably unusual.

And I figure correctly. First, it’s huge! The bun is super-sized, and still the frank extends beyond its edge. The chili isn’t ground beef, at least not like hamburger meat that one might expect, but rather real, delicious chunks of meat. There are also beans and veggies. Served with fries, it has me full to bursting and happy to part with the $13 it cost.

I contemplate attending the Talent Showcase, as I have at the previous two conventions to which I have gone, but decide against it. Admission at the door is $25, not too bad I guess but higher than the $10 it usually goes for. Plus, I can just stream it from my room. It is a pretty good show though, and I think I most would have enjoyed the band that accompanied people and had its own tracks as well. One woman does a particularly stong spoken word piece, and a couple of others perform great original songs.

The last thing I really do in Vegas is to ask my friend from the previous day’s breakfast if she could come and take a picture of me in the casino. Hopefully it can be seen here, via Twitter. I’m sitting at a slot machine. Do I gamble? Well, no. I keep meaning to, but just feel it’s basically throwing money away. I know I know, I could keep it really small and stop after a couple of turns. I guess I’ll do it the next time I go out there.

My picture-taker and I then wrap up the evening again at Banana Leaf while drinking delicious mango smoothies and talking more. That smoothy reminds me of the sweet mango milk shake I had in Washington DC, MMM. She tells me that a smoothy and milk shake differ in the same way that yogurt differs from ice cream: that the former is generally healthier.

She needs to head back up and do some work though, so I take about a third of that to my room, listen to the ever-saddening news, and go to bed.

The Real Deal 3: Information and Enrichment

Posted on by John

Monday morning. No alarms! Still, I awake at 6:30.

I hop from station to station initially, but decide to listen mostly to the Mark and Mercedes Morning show on Mix 94.1. It’s at least local! They keep advertising some sort of “eat and greet” where you get to chat with the Goo Goo Dolls at a pool party put on by the station. It sounds like fun stuff. They also note, with a combination of happiness and bewilderment over the surrounding hype, that Las Vegas will soon have an Ikea furniture store. Their most interesting discussion revolves around the question of whether you can be in love with two people at the same time.

I have arranged to meet yet another Twitter follower whom I hadn’t met previously for breakfast at 9:15. She had indicated that we might leave the hotel in search of quieter environs, but when we start to look around inside we discover that Wicked Vicky’s (I keep wanting to call that place either “Wicky Vicky’s,” or “Wicked Vicked”) is actually relatively empty.

This will give us more time to sit,” she reasons. It ends up being her, one of the exhibitors whom she assists, whom I also have gotten to know well online, and the woman from Indy, whom we suck in as she floats by. It is again all in the randomness of convention.

For breakfast, I order a Wicked Vicky’s Stack, which consists of delicious French toast, sausage patties, and cheese eggs. I also have two cups of nice, hot coffee.

To make talking easier, the person I’d come to meet asks the server if someone will turn the music, which is kind of loud, down. They just plain turn it off. I often get nervous about requesting such things, but must admit that I could hear a lot better without it. I enjoy the chatter as my belly fills.

At this point, I have little to do until approximately 1:45. So I head back up to my room, where I read, fade into and out of sleep, and just enjoy vacating. Until..

“Housekeeping.” Oops? I’m about to be kicked out of here! Well ok, I doubt it would’ve been that serious. Still, I opt to get out of their way and let them work, realizing only after I’m on the elevator that I have forgotten my bag. Better hope the hearing aid batteries hold up.

I make my way into the lobby and towards the convention center so I can see about attending the workshop on deafblindness and employment. I enter the room, where I am told they cannot scan credit cards so I must head back out to registration to purchase a ticket. The line for that isn’t terribly long, and in about 6 minutes I am seated again and ready for the presentation.

Some technical issues pop up, and while they try to fix them the main presentor, who is totally deafblind, goes around to meet those in attendance. She takes my hand, and another voice says “Hello, nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Me?” I reply just to be sure it is she who is speaking to me. I believe she makes a sound to try and confirm that for me, even as the interpreter speaks for her.

Once on stage, she asks us why we think she wants to meet us in that way, making contact while doing so. It is an important, and really the only, way she has to physically connect to a person, and insodoing she gleans other information from the person as well. She also has an environmental interpreter who lets her know how the audience is reacting: are people falling to sleep, cell phones ringing, other conversations going on, etc. As a blind person, I don’t even know some of that kind of information as I present. It is fascinating.

I think that kind of interpreting takes quite a bit of work though, as the voices switch off three times during the talk. Another individual, whom I think is blind and hears ok, speaks as well. There may have also been a third, sighted/hearing person up there.

They highlight the work being done at the Seattle Lighthouse for the Blind in employing those who are deafblind. That location hires interpreters to allow employees to talk with supervisors and co-workers, as well as working with those groups of people to teach at least some rudimentary signs to facilitate basic communication. They also use normal pagers to alert deafblind people of breaks, dismissal time, and emergencies through a series of different vibrations.

The crux of their talk is that we must understand how privilege, power and independence work together to make possible or shut someone out of a chance to use his/her skills in a meaningful way. When possible, try to stay away from words like “help” and instead say “support(s)” as it can indicate a more active role by the deafblind individual. In my opinion, some of this is a question of what a person means when using certain wording, but I do agree that it should all be considered.

After this event concludes, hunger has again gotten the best of me. I order a too expensive ham and cheese sandwich and Mountain Dew from the Java Stop, though if I had waited another hour or so I would have been fed. It is 4:45 now, and the Vanda Pharmeceuticals reception starts at 5:45. But whatever. Without my bag, and thus my headphones, I am forced to press the iPhone against my head as I check email and messages over the roaring crowd while I chomp.

Next to the Vanda reception, where I have at least five different kinds of cheese, crackers, grapes, shrimp, and a spring roll. They give us about 15 minutes to work on our plates before beginning.

Vanda is a relatively small drug company that has worked for several years to develop a drug, now called hetlioz and previously Tacemelteon, to help totally blind individuals combat non-24-hour Sleep/Wake Disorder, otherwise known as Non-24. After a fairly intensive study, this drug has just gained FDA approval for that narrow subset of the population. A doctor speaking on behalf of the company gives a comprehensive presentation covering what is known about the drug, reasons for using it, and possible side effects.

The drug must be taken continuously and at the same time once started. If one were paying out of pocket it would cost a considerable amount, however they continue with their campaign to get more insurance carriers to cover it. To start, people will receive refills from a program called Hetlioz Solutions, but they hope to bring large pharmacies like Walgreens into the mix eventually.

With regards to side effects, none are particularly dangerous. The most common, I suppose not surprisingly with a sleep medication, is drowsiness. There could also be liver problems, so you have to be aware of that if your liver is already compromised in some way. Less effective in those at or over 65. Always seek medical advice before even starting to take something like this anyway, as possible drug interactions and/or the presence of other disorders may need to be taken into account.

After a moving personal testimony about how this drug has helped one woman come back to herself, they take questions. The most notable comment, and it can apply to some other companies as well, is that the ads promoting this treatment tend to portray blindness in a very negative light. We need to find a way to get the message across without making it sound as if we are all sad sacks who don’t know how to cope.

Overall though, I found it to be an informative talk. Will I take it? I’m not sure, as I’m a bit wary of depending on anything continuously like that. And while regular sleep would be good, my life is such that it would be impractical for me to go to bed at the same time absolutely every night. I don’t know, we’ll see.

At this point, it is 7:53. With the assistance of one of the presentors, I make a mad dash for the Suite Tower elevators as I am to participate in a Braille study at 8 PM. Once onto the correct floor, we already hear those folks calling my name, and so I slide in.

The guy who running the study seems to be totally blind, and has a sighted assistant who makes sure that things are in the right place. They fit my right index finger, the reading finger, with a small camera that will record my motion. Something is also strapped to my wrist, I guess more for stability than anything else. Before I start each test, the cameras must be calibrated to the beginning and end of the Braille line.

First, I am given a small hard copy Braille book to read. I take it in as quickly as I can, then am asked a series of questions about what I’ve just learned. I find it hard to read with any kind of speed and remember exactly what I’ve read. Man! Kinda makes me worry about whether I have some kind of issues with this period, and if it didn’t make my education not go as smoothly as it could have, especially in grad school.

The second, shorter passage is done via a refreshable Braille display, an electronic device that can be connected to computers or mobile devices and made to render the text in Braille. I find this a lot easier, and really want one of those HandyTech displays! This particular display is 40 cells, which causes me to sail right along. I still have some issues remembering all of what I have read, though.

“I feel like a lab rad!” I quip.

The final part makes me feel most like a lab rat, as I had to try to decide if something was a word by jumping over two extraneous Braille cells being placed in the middle. This is a real challenge, because my brain needs the continuity. I note my decision by pressing pedals with my feet, right for yes it is a word and no for it isn’t.

“Am I going to receive some sort of electric shock for getting it wrong?” I ask while chuckling.

“Nah, I’d be in jail if I did that,” he replies.

I can’t help grunting and moaning when I mash a pedal and realize a second later that I have made the wrong decision. It is all rather amusing. I think mostly he wants to get a sense of how and why we make mistakes when reading that might help in coming up with methods of increasing our effectiveness with the Braille medium. Meanwhile, as I walk back to the elevators I shake my head and question my intelligence.

I wrap this day in the Banana Leaf Café, an Asian fusion (whatever that means) restaurant at the hotel. I grab a delicious chocolate cake, and get my iPhone screen all sticky as I pound out messages while eating. Then it’s up to my room for more reading, and off to bed.

The Real Deal 2: Sunday Fun Day!

Posted on by John

Sunday arrives, slow and sweet. I allow myself to lay in bed, luxuriating in the fact that I have no immediate reason to rise and can enjoy the time away.

As always, my favorite thing to do is listen to road morning shows. I initially reach for what I think is the clock radio, but quickly give up on that and start playing with the Tune In app on my iPhone. I hate that they no longer make it as easy to change stations, other than once they’re in the Recent Stations feed. They have some sort of cumbersome social media-type interface now, which just makes it harder for me to find stuff.

Of course, most Sunday mornings are given to religious content. So, I listen to a bit of some pastor in Vegas before rising at 10:30? 7:30? something:30! What is this time thing we’ve made up anyway. They say humanity is really the only species that so closely watches it.

After spattering water all over the floor from my shower, as there seems to be no way to stop it from flying out the side, I slip into a casual pair of slacks and button-down shirt. I hope to look just presentable enough for new sets of eyes that I might encounter.

Then into the hall for the fun elevator game! Gah it drives me a little bit crazy when places have four of them from which to choose. Whack the button, stop breathing, stand really still, and there it is! Only BANG! no? wrong one. Oh that one wait, I nearly lost a finger! Relax, begin cycle again.

I play this annoying sprint around the vestibule a couple of times, until I hear some, I guess high, heels come clicking into the room.

“Sir, may I help you?” she asks. I’ll finally get down!

I don’t notice till she tells me, but she is from Scotland. One of my favorite accents, for sure. She says she’s about to check out of the hotel and head back, I think.

She kindly walks me to the jam-packed Java stop, where I latch onto an endless line. I try not to pound the person’s back who stands in front of me too many times, but also to balance that with moving up when I need to. I sometimes feel I’m the worst at waiting in line.

Audio recorded from therein: Initial Craziness

Then I meet a kind volunteer from Georgia, cool accent too, who agrees to help me find somewhere to sit while I await my city tour. Only everything is pretty much full, so I go back into the Java Stop and sit till she again comes to collect me at 12:45 to board the bus for the 1:00 departure.

I love heat! But, that Vegas heat is something different somehow. The second we step into it, I feel all of my water leaving my body.

“I couldn’t stay out in this for more than ten minutes,” I say.

More audio: City Tour Snippet

And that woman continued being just as entertaining, having us all applauding, laughing, or groaning in turn. One thing became clear from her words: Vegas was built by rich folk who had that kind of money to throw around. I know she said one person built a casino at the request of his wife, so that his love for gambling wouldn’t end up costing him everything. He’d just be recycling his own money. Not surprisingly of course, Vegas is seeking to diversify beyond strictly a gambling Mecca of sorts, as well.

I had always wanted to get to convention early enough to do the city tour, just because I love hearing people talk about their area. Yes, it would’ve been cooler to walk around some of those places, but I’m not sure how much of that I could have handled anyway.

Back into the hotel by 3, I finally decide to make my way to the exhibit hall. Here, I meet a couple of long-time online friends and folks who were selling products for the first time.

From the AT Guys, I purchase a Soundpods portable Bluetooth speaker. I’m pretty satisfied with it, and think for its size it doesn’t sound half bad. It does make it easier for me to take in content from my iPhone while in bed.

From Elegant Insights, I acquire a Braille-embossed, copper key chain that reads “ACB 2014. It’s a nice little souvenir. I also volunteer to be this vendor’s first experiment using a credit card, a task made interesting by the fact that she uses a somewhat challenging iPhone app that requires turning VoiceOver off and back on a few times to get it to record the card info. Still, it is great that such technology is even moderately accessible to blind folks, and I hope it continues to become more so.

Finally, it is the part for which I have most been waiting: the tweet-up! I am surprised that the crowd there isn’t larger, but it works out for me as I can easily hear everyone in attendance. Here, I meet one of my longest-running online friends from our neighbors to the north, Canada. I also meet a long-running friend who stays in Vegas for the second time ever. We all introduce ourselves by name and Twitter handle, then spend the rest of the time chattering away about any and everything.

I plan to go to the opening ACB General Session, but as soon as I make my way out of the tweet-up location around 6:30, my Canadian friend, one from Indianapolis, another person from Canada and I think yet one more ask me if I wish to join them for dinner.

“Hmmm, that sounds fun,” I reply.

We then spend the next half hour working our way to the Wicked Vicky’s Tavern, being given spotty directions and losing each other a time or two in the process.

“Hey, this is how we roll at convention,” I say. “We’ll get there eventually.”

Once seated, I opt to have some delicious-sounding meatloaf and mac and cheese. The mac and cheese wasn’t the “real” baked stuff I most prefer, but then I guess I shouldn’t have really expected it to be. It was pretty good anyway, though I had to stop eating it once that runny cheese began to make me feel sick.

This is really the last thing I do, after which I retire to my room to see how my speaker works. I know that, not being the most technologically adept person, it would probably take me a minute to figure out the Bluetooth component. In the meantime, and this is probably unfortunate as I may never get around to learning said component, I discover that the cable they provide for charging also has an end that will allow it to be plugged into a headphone jack. So, I’m still kind of just using that.

I play with the volume, trying not to turn it up too loudly as those walls seem to retain no sound. As I feel myself flagging by 11, I finally slide under the covers and call it a night.