Humor
How My Poor Eyesight Entertains the Masses and Mortifies an Optical Store Clerk
Notes on lost glasses and poorly placed pianos
I left my eyeglasses at a La Quinta Inn in Fort Lauderdale.
This could be the first line of a bad country song if you just added “and my heart” somewhere in the middle, but alas, it’s not. It’s simply a sad tale about poor eyesight. Or rather, a tale about poor eyesight and a mortified clerk at the eyeglasses store who might never recover from witnessing, up close and personal, the abomination that is my eyewear.
Before we get any deeper into the story, you need to know that my eyesight is famously bad. I don’t typically go to parties, but if I did, my inability to see anything without corrective eyewear would be my go-to party trick. Picture me mingling with a group of snazzily dressed professionals in a spacious penthouse apartment with hardwood floors, high ceilings, tasteful crown molding, and a piano in one corner. I clear my throat, tap my wine glass with a fancy fork, and ask for everyone’s attention. I then pop my hard contacts out of my eyes one by one, moving the contact case an inch from my face so I can tuck them safely away. I blink a few times, look around at the blur of shapes and colors, stick my arms out like Frankenstein, and…
