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Category: Random Ramblings

Considering public speaking? Talk about confidence!

Published September 11, 2012 by L. Legendary

A number of my readers have noted, by way of my Linked In profile, that I have been a long-time member of an organization called Toastmasters International.  While I am not a     current member, my association with Toastmasters lasted over ten years.  Many have asked me to write about professional speaking, or have contacted me for tips and advice.  This interest has prompted me to post the article below.  I was invited to contribute the article after a number of others I had written appeared in a regional publication.  This article was first published in the Toastmasters International Magazine in 2005. 

Talk About Confidence
 

If you asked me to choose the single greatest benefit I could claim as the result of my Toastmasters experience, I would choose confidence.  With so many skills and techniques to be learned, confidence can be the most elusive.  Confidence is stealthy.  It creeps up on you, slowly at first, building in intensity until one day you realize it’s there.

Confidence is not the thing that propels you to the front of a room to give a talk.  That’s courage.  Confidence is not what gives you the ability to speak fluently and elegantly on your topic.  That’s expertise.  Nor is confidence the way in which you move about the platform, your emphatic gestures or your booming voice.  That’s presentation style.  The actual   substance of your contribution is derived from standing in your truth,  more subtle than mere flash.

Confidence is quieter.  It comes from the knowledge that no matter the calamity or crisis, you can trust your ability to cope gracefully. Confidence is that esoteric something that can be difficult to describe, yet you know it when you see it.

Confidence is acquired, not given.  It is an idiosyncrasy of our language that we say, “That really gave me a lot of confidence.”  I tend to think of confidence given gratuitously as that which is temporary, such as a compliment.  It can be fleeting, when, for example, you are the recipient of an unflattering remark ten minutes later.  Instead, think of confidence as the result of a simple mathematical equation:  Time plus experience equals confidence.

The first portion of the equation, time, is a constant.  Time elapses, whether you like it or not, and eventually you will have accumulated a substantial body of work upon which to draw.  The second part of the equation is the variable.  Experience is simply trial and error, trial and success.  You must have both, or there will be nothing that can be learned.  In any competition, it is the person who comes in at second place who gains the most from the experience.  It is the second place winner who picks apart his performance, analyzes every angle, and strategizes the next step to success. No one likes to lose, but if you are at all competitive you will use the next attempt and the experience of coming up short to win.  How many times have you said, "I won’t make that mistake again"?  Knowledge is one of the ingredients that makes experience a variable.  We choose to learn from our mistakes.

Confidence doesn’t come from being told that you are good, it lies in knowing that you are good.  From there, greatness is an exercise.  It’s up to you to use time and experience to your fullest potential.  This may require new choices, but by that time you will have earned the confidence you will need to go as far as you desire.  You will also possess the skills and experience that will enable you to teach others.  Talk about confidence!

 

 

 

LL

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Towering Tree, Power of Pi: A tribute.

Published September 6, 2012 by L. Legendary

 

Simply put, little stands that lacks a solid foundation.  Mine is my family.  What follows are a few words of appreciation.  Only a few words are necessary, because we share an abundance of understanding.  So many have so much less.

 

The towering tree is a redwood, who ascends to heights so lofty as to keep watch over all else.  A tree so tall he can see with clarity the unobstructed paths for me to follow, and can guide me through.  The towering tree is a massive oak, long-lived and wise.  His quiet strength and patience holds him in good stead against the forces that bring down lesser trees.  The towering tree is a willow, who weeps only with compassion, not pity.

 

As the ancient banyan extends its profusion of limbs beyond the perimeter of what seems  possible, providing shade, shelter and comfort, my brother is the towering tree.

 

The power of pi is the highest power in the universe.  She is an enigma, far more complex than she appears at first.  Pi is the constant from which I derive all strength, all love, all life.  She is the source of infinite spirit and growth.   In a world of variables, Pi has no end, and no equal.  Pi is my mother.

 

I’ve often heard it said that raising a child is the hardest job in the world.  In my opinion, the only job more difficult is that of raising a child with a disability.  It requires a foundation an order of magnitude more unshakeable than any other.  I should know, because I’ve been standing on it.  My foundation has never even trembled. 

Tomorrow marks a significant milestone in my life.  No, it is not my birthday, my birthday is in March.  Nor is it an anniversary of any kind.  It is a day no less special or important than these, however, as it is the sort of milestone only someone who has experienced the loss of a loved one can understand.  We count up our emotional souvenirs as we make inevitable comparisons of chronology,  and say things like, "it was at THIS time, THAT year, when we…"  All the while marveling at life’s continuum as we go on without them.  It is a day to gather up my memories and hold them close.  It is a day that marks a point at which the end begins to gain distance greater than that which marks the distance from the beginning.  It is a day I cannot face alone, and I will not have to.  There is no tribute adequate to express the gratitude and love I have for my family.  For me, little is possible without the towering tree, the power of pi. 

I love you.

    

LL

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On letting go of my visual life

Published May 30, 2012 by L. Legendary

A few years ago, I was offered a writing tip from a friend who was trying to advise me as to how to overcome writer’s block.  At the time, I was strung as tight as piano wire, unable to come up with a single creative word.  To add self-flagellation to injury, I was furious with myself for becoming the cliche of a writer who sat staring, paralyzed, at a blank computer screen.

Of course, in my case, "blank" is a relative term.  But I digress.

Anyway, my friend advised me that he used a technique that helped him when he found himself floundering.  He suggested that I forget about composing an introduction, working through the salient points and concluding with a profound thought or compelling call to action.  Instead, he advised, "Just begin writing, even if you begin in mid-sentence.  Write as if the thoughts had already been flowing for pages and pages.  Start in the middle of the document, and work your way back, or forward, it doesn’t matter.  This can trick your mind into believing that you have simply dropped into a continuum of free-flowing ideas, and before you know it, you’ll be able to begin at the beginning."
 

I was skeptical.  Frustrated, yet skeptical.

As it turns out, it is a trick I’ve used for awhile now.  Most of the time, it works well for me. 
it takes the pressure off of trying to come up with an attention-grabbing opening line, and I give myself permission to write in a more stream-of-consciousness manner, knowing that I can always go back and ruthlessly edit later.  another trick that has helped has been to keep a running open file of words, phrases, topic ideas and inspirational text from which I can draw when needed.
 

I say all of the above to set up the manner in which I approached this essay.  I tend to be very private, and I rarely write about anything personal.  When first deciding to set up this blog, I was determined to write only about issues that pertained to accessibility and assistive technology, and not to write about personal feelings related to my own vision loss.  My thinking was that there are plenty of others who write about their trials and tribulations with their disability, why add to the chatter?  I didn’t feel that I could write about it in a way that was valuable.  I thought I could be of greater service to others if I kept my feelings out of my writing.
 

Still, there are a few posts here describing various adverse circumstances in which I’ve found myself on occasion, and to my surprise, all who have read my rants, missives and manifestos have been incredibly supportive.
 

It is understandable that my readers might, at least, every once in a while, like to hear from the human being behind the blog.  With the hope that this is the case, and I’m not aggrandizing myself, I thought I’d write about something a little more personal today.

I’ve only been living in the house I’m in now for about a year and a half.  A couple of weeks ago I found myself in spring cleaning mode, and decided it was time to unpack more of the boxes stacked up in the garage.  At the rate I’m going, I thought, I might as well just leave it all packed for when they come to move me into the senior living facility.  it will make it so much easier when they bring it all to the thrift store.
 

So, determined to be the master of my own donation destiny, I began going through boxes that hadn’t seen the light of day in years.  Most of us have had to suffer the madness of moving from one dwelling to another, and in the process, we’ve learned that we have too much stuff.  In fact, I wondered, as I pulled open a box that contained trinkets from my childhood, how many of us have boxes that we NEVER open, we just haul them from place to place, thinking we’ll get to it at some undetermined point in the future, only to realize that we have no place to put any of it?  Here I’m reminded of the comedy routine performed by  the brilliant George Carlin, who railed against the accumulation of belongings we move from one residence to another throughout our lives.  Remember the routine he did about the extinction of humanity, leaving behind "the Earth, plus plastic?"

Bent over one particular box, I could feel it was crumbling, the cardboard wrinkled, the tape peeling, the corners frayed.  This one must be a really old one, I thought.  Wonder what’s in it.
 

The box was full of photographs.  Loose photos, still in the envelopes with the negatives tucked inside (have you wrapped your mind around the fact that we’ll never have photo negatives again?), albums, and even school yearbooks.  Photographs taken over a lifetime of milestones…milestones that ceased to be recorded when I began to really lose my eyesight.

I do not remember the precise point at which I stopped taking pictures, but it was years ago.  Decades of my life have now passed without the cheery chastisement to "say cheese!" as I snapped a photo of some timeless moment.  I hadn’t even thought of it until right then, staring down into a box full of those memories imprinted on hundreds and hundreds of paper squares that I will never see again.  When is the last time I even looked at them?  Surely, there must be packages of photographs in here, picked up from the drugstore rack of developed rolls of film that I’ve never even opened.  Intending to place them lovingly in a photo album, I just assumed I’d get to it one day, but one day came and I could no longer recognize anything in a picture.  I just left the envelopes, unopened.  Now, I would never know what had been picture-worthy at the time.  There must be events recorded there that I’ve long forgotten.  That’s what the photos are for…to jog our memories, to refresh our recollection of an event, a celebration, that Christmas when…

But it’s all gone to me now.  I felt, standing over the box in my garage that day, as though I had a sort of Alzheimer’s disease, only instead of the blissful ignorance of memories lost, the past slips away while you stand by and experience every moment missed, conscious of the loss like the sensation of the sand pulling away from beneath your feet as the ocean waves rush to retreat from the shore.  What do I do with the photos now?

I have no one to give them to.  Who would care?  I cannot describe them to future generations, and what was significant to me at the time is surely meaningless to someone else.  There will be no reminiscing, no laughter over the dated hairdos, the outrageous outfits, the long-lost friends whose names just won’t come to mind.  Yet, throwing away all of my old photos, albums, yearbooks, school portraits, unopened envelopes emblazoned with that bright yellow Kodak logo seems like an act of assisted suicide.

I wonder what to do now.  This has me feeling uneasy.  I’ve long since let go of my visual life, yet disposing of a lifetime of happy birthdays, spectacular sunsets, foreign travel, forested trails, and rolling road trips would be a kind of amputation of the soul.  What should I do?  What would you do?  What have you done?  Tell me about a time when you let go of your visual life.

  

 

LL

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Anatomy of a Kickstarter project: Preliminary examination

Published May 24, 2012 by L. Legendary

If you are not a regular reader of the Accessible Insights blog, it will not require much poking around here to discover that, along with my pet topics of inclusion, accessibility, disability awareness and assistive technology, I often write about entrepreneurship.  In the spirit of "necessity breeds invention," I have been a solopreneur for years.  Recently, I’ve undertaken a new venture.

 

It is this new venture about which I write today.  Actually, I’m going to write about the process of getting my little project off the ground, with the assistance of Kickstarter.  If you’ve been curious about Kickstarter and how it works, if it would be right for you, or if you are just delighted to have the opportunity to watch a business go down in flames, like the ghoulish fixation people have with another person’s tragedy, then  you’ll get your fill here.  I’ll either be the hero or the goat, and if you like the idea of rooting for the underdog, you just can’t beat the odds that are stacked up against me.

 

My little startup venture is called Elegant Insights Braille Creations.  It is a line of jewelry and accessories that are embossed in Braille.   So far, the business barely qualifies as a hobby.  Still, my plan is to make a go of it, and that’s why I turned to Kickstarter.

 

In  case you don’t know, Kickstarter is the largest of the new "crowdfunding"  platforms growing like wildfire today.  The upshot is that you create a project profile, upload all the relevant info, create a video, post product descriptions, ask for people to "kick in" some cash, promise them a reward for doing so, and hope your project can attract "backers" before the expiration date you’ve set for your project completion.  Piece of cake, right?

  

According to the Kickstarter web site, www.kickstarter.com, just under half of all projects are successful, meaning that they’ve met or exceeded their funding goals in the allotted timeframe.  That’s a bit intimidating.  For those entrepreneurs who have found success, however, many of them have far exceeded their fundraising goals, and have gone on to take up and complete other projects.

 

The catch with Kickstarter is that you cannot post a project that is open-ended.  All projects must propose a finite goal, with a specific end point.  In other words, just saying that "I need money to start my business" is inconsistent with the Kickstarter guidelines, and your project will not be approved.  All projects are reviewed by the Kickstarter staff before they go live on the site.  You must also create and upload a video, wherein you can demonstrate your passion for your project  so as to convince  your hoped-for backers to contribute.  This is where Kickstarter loses me.  Without going into depth regarding my pathos about being seen in any sort of video, suffice it to say I’ll need to undergo some desensitization therapy before I tackle that particular aspect of the task.  Furthermore, this feels just a bit like begging to me.  I guess this is a personal weakness.  I’ve never been  good at asking for money.

 

As I learn the Kickstarter process, I’ll keep you updated.  You can ogle to your heart’s content, especially if you’re one of those fascinated at being witness to a car crash in progress.  Or, you can be in my corner and cheer me on as I blindly (literally and figuratively)feel my way through the minefield of funding a new business.  I’ll also point out any accessibility pitfalls about which to be aware if you are a screen reader user and considering Kickstarter.  Wish me luck, or pennies from heaven, or something. 

 

LL

 

 

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Word Press v3.3.2 dashboard access issue

Published May 16, 2012 by L. Legendary

Let this blog post serve as a cautionary tale for all of my readers, but most especially for those of you who use screen readers.  So as to avoid losing you to mind-numbing boredom, I’ll just cut right to the chase:  Never update your Word Press blog until well after a million others have already done so.

 

Skipping…skipping…welcome to my nightmare.

 

The latest version of Word Press offers a super-cool new flyout style dashboard that is not accessible.  According to WP support (see the comment thread here), the flyout menus "are accessible & do meet access guidelines if you are using the latest version of JAWS (or at least that’s what the last round of testing appeared to indicate) but that may not be the case with other screen reader software."

 

Can we all just ponder that a moment?  Ahem.  Not everyone uses Jaws.  Just for laughs, and to toss in my two cents, my own testing “appears to indicate” it does not work with the latest version of ZoomText, or the latest version of NVDA, both of which I use.  Hey, I ought to try it with Narrator, see what happens.

So that you know, and so that I can save you from grief, the recommended plugin mentioned in the support thread does not work with my configuration, either.  I’m running Win 7 on a PC with IE 8.  Quit laughing.

 

I’ve actually tried two different plugins that purport to make the WP dashboard more accessible, but no luck.  If you find a solution to this latest access annoyance, besides schooling me on the benefits of being an Apple user, please comment and share.  So many will be so grateful, most of all me.  By the way, don’t bother asking just any random WP “guru” about this.  Believe me, they’ll treat you like you’re insane.  Just don’t go there, it’s a pathway to madness.  Only a screen reader user is going to understand this problem, not someone who claims to know about web accessibility and Word Press.  Let’s start writing to the good folks at WP, or appeal to the many genius plugin developers out there. 

I’m growing tired of playing “menu roulette.”  Come on, code cowboys (and cowgirls), drop a few lines of those mysterious symbols, letters and numbers that look to me as if you slammed your fist down on the keyboard, and I’ll be the first to promote it for you.  That is, if I can manage to install it with the magical invisible dashboard. 

 

LL

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A question of hope, healing or heartbreak for people with vision loss

Published January 24, 2012 by L. Legendary

There has been a flurry of recent reports circulating around the web regarding some promising results for people who have vision loss.  These latest research results are showing the potential for the implantation of human embryonic stem cells and people who have degenerative retinal diseases, such as macular degeneration and Stargardt’s disease.    Below I’ve hyperlinked just a few for you.  Disseminating this news is not my purpose here, however.  I want to ask my readers a few questions about your feelings on the subject.

 

If I had to guess, I would imagine the responses to my questions would vary widely,  depending upon when, and under what circumstances, you lost your eyesight.  How likely would you be to participate in this sort of trial?  If your eyesight could be restored, would you leap at the chance?  What if the results were only temporary?  What if the treatment were of a nature that precluded later, potentially more promising outcomes?  What if the treatment worked for many, but not for you?  How would you feel about no longer being part of a community, such as the smaller RP community, or the larger disability community?  How much of your sense of self is defined by your vision, or lack thereof?  Would you choose a restorative treatment for yourself first, or your children?  If you are a sighted spouse of a partner who is blind, how would you feel about the change in dynamic of your relationship?  Is there any aspect of your character or personality that would be changed by restored vision loss?  What if the result was little more than an approximation of eyesight, say, the ability to perceive outlines, but no details or color?  Would you be satisfied with mere light perception?  I guess the ultimate question is, what would you be willing to settle for?     

 

I can think of a thousand other questions, but you get the idea.  Please comment and share your thoughts.  I think many of my sighted readers might be very surprised by some of the responses.

      Click here to read Stem Cells Bring Hope

Click here to go to The Lancet

Click here to read AARP blog

Click here to read article on Nature.com

Click here to read more on clinical trials

 

You can also learn more by following @fightblindness on Twitter.

 

So, what would you do if you could change everything?

 

LL

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A few of my favorite quotes on gratitude

Published January 23, 2012 by L. Legendary

Honestly, I don’t know why I’m fixated on this topic at the moment.  I seldom post on the same topic twice in a row, unless the post is specifically identified as a series.  For whatever reason, I continue to feel a need to write about gratitude, not so as to take anyone to school, rather, to share with my readers the amazing boomerang effect of expressing gratitude.

 

Gratitude need not always be a showy display or composed in flowery language.  Sometimes, the simple act of paying attention to someone who has requested it of you can be enough.  Recently, I’ve asked a number of individuals to assist me by providing quotes for a couple of articles.  It has been interesting to me to make note of those who have responded with grace and gratitude, and those who have not.  As speaker and presentation coach and friend, Rich Hopkins (@richhopkins) said, ‘It’s one thing to be big-timed by someone who is a big shot, it’s another to be big-timed by someone who thinks he’s a big shot, but who isn’t."

 

Below are just a few quotes on gratitude that I value.  Feel free to pass them on, or add to the list in the comments.  Oh, and thank you for your time.  I always appreciate your input. 
 

Gratitude is born in hearts that take time to count up past mercies.
— Charles E. Jefferson (1860 -  1937))

 

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.
— Cicero (106 BC – 43 BC), ‘Pro Plancio,’ 54 B.C.

 

Gratitude is the most exquisite form of courtesy.
— Jacques Maritain (1882 – 1973), Reflections on America, 1958

 

It’s a sign of mediocrity when you demonstrate gratitude with moderation.
— Roberto Benigni (1952 – ), in Newsweek

 

 

LL

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Gratitude: A business-building basic

Published January 20, 2012 by L. Legendary

Forget the finer points of business etiquette.  Depending upon where you do business, with whom, and what kind, the intricacies of relational etiquette can require a survival guide, for sure.  It can be a walk on a wire, learning cultures and context and communication.  Never mind all that.  Let’s keep things simple.  In fact, let’s distill things down to two single-syllable words:  Thank you.

 

Gratitude is a universally understood currency that can be easily exchanged,  and is therefore extremely powerful.  I’m not talking about keeping a journal with gold leaf edges and pretty pink pages.  I’m not talking about the exchange of gifts, or the perfunctory thanks we offer for a kindness that barely registers on our personal Richter scale.  I’m talking about acknowledging and validating those who do a real service, enhance your life experience, or who go out of their way to attempt to engage you in some other way besides an RT on Twitter.  Now that I think of it, though, there’s nothing wrong with saying thank you for that, either.

 

It is appalling to me, not to mention incredibly hurtful and frustrating, how often we fail to recognize when someone is genuinely trying to reach out, to do a kindness, to be a friend, or to support another’s efforts, only to have that attempt met with silence.  I spend a healthy portion of my day reaching out to those with whom I hope to build some sort of relationship,  and whether you call that networking or sharing or promotion, there seems to be an abundant lack of understanding as to how this process works.  If expressing gratitude makes you feel uncomfortable, then you are flat doing it wrong.  All you need is a little less ego, and a little more listening, and then you’ll have it.

 

My view is that what all of us really want out of this life is to be acknowledged, affirmed and heard.  That is my recipe for dishing out gratitude in heaping proportions .  it goes like this:

 

"Thank you for your kind words earlier.  I think what you wrote was amazing.  In what way can I be of assistance?"

 

Then, stop talking.  What you’ll likely hear is your own gratitude, mirrored back to you.

 

The problem with all of this is, until we all get it, many of our relationships can often feel one-sided.  We take each other for granted, we just expect the other person will always be there to be our ‘fan," and we barely feel a need to say a special thank you for those who have affirmed us.  After all, we’re fabulous, right?  Who needs to say thank you when everything we do is wonderful?  Wrong.  How do you know you’re wrong?  When you feel empty, disconnected, lonely, or wonder why, when there are so many people in your life, you still feel alone.

 

There are days when we might feel as though what we do is nothing more than a thankless exercise in futility.  No one should feel that way.  So, how can you change it?  Well, you can start small.  For example, instead of viewing the "comments" area on someone’s blog as an opportunity to be critical, think of it instead as a way of saying thank you to someone who is likely not receiving any compensation whatsoever for their expenditure of energy.  Not everyone is a paid blogger, or has pages covered with lucrative ads.  Some people blog for the love of it, for the joy of helping others.  I know, I know…there is no such thing as altruism.  that doesn’t make it okay, though, for anyone to be a self-centered, selfish egomaniac who feels a need to demonstrate his self-proclaimed superiority at another’s expense.  Didn’t your mother tell you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, or at the very least, neutral or constructive, then don’t say anything?  And no, this post is not being composed as a result of some angry diatribe left in the comments section.  My readers have been nothing other than kind and generous in their support, for which I hope I have demonstrated sufficient gratitude.

     

One final word.   When someone does say thank you, please say "you’re welcome," instead of something flip or glib.  It is so irritating to me when I express my heartfelt gratitude to someone, only to get some clever little comeback as a response.  If someone is taking the time to acknowledge you, return the favor in kind.  I promise, it won’t hurt.

       

I would like to thank two gentlemen in particular who inspired  this post, John Bodette (@Bearmugs)and Jonathan Mosen (@jonathanmosen), both of whom acknowledged something I said, affirmed me with a kind word, and accepted my gratitude with grace.

 

LL 

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Read them. Hear them. Quote them. Be inspired by American Rhetoric

Published January 16, 2012 by L. Legendary

Have you ever heard the Martin Luther King Jr. speech, "I have a Dream" in its entirety?  We’ve all heard the same snippets over and over, but hearing it from beginning to end is a whole new experience.  One of my favorite web sites is called American Rhetoric, and on it, you will find an incredible collection of speeches, audio, and text transcriptions of famous speeches for your review.  You can relive presidential speeches, movie speeches, and speeches inspired by the events of September 11th, 2001.  If you are a blogger, print writer, or just an admirer of a beautifully crafted sentence, you’ll appreciate this web site. 

 

Go here:

 

www.americanrhetoric.com/

 

As a speaker, I have repeatedly turned to American Rhetoric for quotes and context.  This site is a fantastic resource for education and entertainment.  You can also purchase some of their offerings.  American Rhetoric is a must for educators and information purveyors everywhere. 

 

To read or listen to the "I Have A Dream" speech in its entirety, click here.

www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

 

Keep dreaming…

LL

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Lessons learned from a cab ride from hell

Published January 13, 2012 by L. Legendary

Almost any story, no matter how tragic, can seem amusing after putting some distance between yourself and the crisis.  In editing this story, I found myself laughing, but at the time, I can assure you I felt no mirth whatsoever.  Now that I can achieve a little perspective, I think I can write this in such a way as to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek while offering a cautionary tale about traveling when you have a disability, and share some lessons learned.

Recently I returned from a business trip, and was anxious to get home.  After collecting my luggage from the airport baggage claim, I sought the taxi stand.  I live less than a half hour from the airport, and after such a long trip, culminating in a seemingly interminable travel day, I was thrilled to be headed home.  Unfortunately, the last thirty minutes of the trip proved to be the most hazardous.  Here is my tale of woe, shared in hope of helping other blind travelers to avoid my mistakes.

As the first taxi van pulled up to the front of the line, the airport public service attendant who assisted me with my luggage commented, "I know this guy.  He’s a friend of mine.  He’ll take care of you."  Mistake number one:  Accepting the word of one stranger about the trustworthiness of another stranger. 

Seasoned traveler that I am, I learned long ago some important safety tips regarding getting into a vehicle that I cannot see.  After all, just because someone says it’s a taxi, doesn’t mean that it is.  With no way to verify this information, I am very careful about only getting into a vehicle that I have requested in advance, whereupon the driver will confirm my name and other information.   I am usually vigilant about getting the name of the driver and the cab company before I get into the vehicle.  In this case, though, I was catching the cab spontaneously from the public taxi stand, and had not thought to gather this information in the moment. So, I took the luggage porter at his word that he knew the cab driver. 

As my luggage was being loaded into the  back of the taxi, I asked the driver to estimate the cost of the ride.  Since I took a taxi to get to the airport to begin with, I knew about how much the fare should be, but I always ask just in case the possibility of transporting a blind woman might inspire a taxi driver to lie. 

In this case, he did not lie, he was silent.  I repeated the question.  He stuttered and stammered and then said in barely comprehensible English that  he did not know.  I asked him to phone in to the dispatcher for the estimate.  he said he couldn’t do that.  I asked him why not.  After a number of excruciating minutes, I gleaned that he had never heard of the city in which I live,   and he said he needed to plug my address into his GPS, then he could tell me the fare.  Mistake number two:  Never enter a vehicle with someone who is incapable of communicating in your language. 

Mistake number 3:  If he cannot speak your language, ensure his technology can speak  HIS language.

The luggage porter was still standing nearby, so I turned to him.  "You are telling me that this guy is okay?"  I asked in an effort to confirm the driver was legit.  "Sure," repeated the porter, "he’ll take care of you." 

All of my instincts were telling me not to get into the cab, but I was anxious to get home, so I did it anyway. 

 

Mistake number 4:  Always trust your instincts.  Always.  .

My first clue that this was going to be a nightmare was when he could not understand me when I gave him my address, which he was struggling to enter into the GPS while struggling to drive off the airport property.  At rush hour on a weekday, navigating the airport passenger pickup area and departing from the terminals area is a scary proposition under the best of circumstances, but combine that with an uncomprehending driver who cannot operate a GPS unit and you have a ride like a demolition derby.  Granted, I may not be able to fully appreciate the nuances of adept driving, but based upon the number of blaring horns I heard in response to what the driver was doing, it was quite the symphony of road rage out there.                
              

No matter how many times I repeated my address, spelled the name of my street (two one-syllable words), or repeated and spelled the name of the exit off the freeway, there would be no getting through.  He was a stranger in a strange land, an alien with a fundamental illiteracy that would soon put me in danger.  Weaving through and swerving around traffic, and using his foot like a jackhammer on the gas pedal, we lurched onto the freeway.  He ignored my every effort to offer suggestions as to how to get me home, while he repeatedly attempted to type my address into his device.  "No work," he muttered, asking me to repeat my street name yet again.  "Not here."  Out of frustration, I finally insisted that he phone his dispatcher to get directions.  "Please understand," I implored, "I am blind, and if you miss the exit off the freeway I will be of little help to you.  I cannot give you directions other than what I know," I finished weakly, realizing that I had been living in my new city just a few months, and had not yet fully grasped the lay of the land.  "I don’t have much cash on hand…if we get lost, the fare may amount to more cash than I have.  I cannot afford to pay for your inability to use your GPS."  Mistake number 5:  Know how to tell someone else how to get to your home by more than one route.  Learn your new city layout as quickly as you learn your new address and phone number.   

The driver pulled out his phone and called a person he described as a friend.  this friend was supposed to give him directions, based upon my address, presumably consulting his own GPS, or Google maps, or his Magic 8 Ball, or something, and passing along instructions to my wild-eyed cab driver. 

I became alarmed.  I realized that the radio I was hearing in the vehicle may in fact have been tuned to a dispatch channel, but it was not a channel apparently meant for him.  This man had absolutely no idea where he was, or where he was going.  He could not understand a word I said.  he could not function with the GPS.  He was weaving wildly all over the freeway.  He could not pronounce, even with a spelling, the name of my street, and began to shout at me to say the names of the freeway exit and the name of my street over and over.  Still, even if he grasped this information, I realized that I would still need to explain how to proceed through the points in between.  I do not live twenty steps from the freeway exit.  There are a number of streets in between the freeway and home, and I had no idea how I would communicate this to him.  He was still jabbering into the phone, stabbing at the GPS with one finger, as if by random chance it might suddenly announce my destination, and trying to steer all at once.  "He say no street!  No street!" He insisted, going back and forth between me and the mystery dispatcher.   

By now, we were shouting at each other.  He refused to let me out of the car, call a home office, or tell me the meter reading on the fare.  He also would not tell me the name of the cab company or his own name.  I frantically searched the inside of the vehicle for pamphlets or business cards or anything that had his cab ID on it.  There was no Braille inside the van which provided the phone number for the taxi oversight authority.  I realized now that I was in a vehicle that I could not identify operated by a man I could not identify.  he could take me anywhere.  Then, he became so disoriented and agitated, he came to a stop on the freeway. 

"Are you crazy?"  I shrieked.  "Are you crazy?  We are on a freeway!  You can’t stop on a freeway!"  he told me to shut up and calm down, while he spoke in rapid-fire utterances to the person on the phone.  I wasn’t even sure I knew what language he was speaking.  Cars were streaking by us, rocking the van from side to side with the air displacement as they whipped by.  "I’m calling the police."  I announced, taking out my phone and turning it on, cursing myself that I had not done so when I deplaned.  "You are crazy, you are going to get us killed."  I declared, believing those to be my last words on this Earth. 

"Calm down," the driver yelled at me, "I’m trying to figure it out." 

My phone battery was dead.  It wouldn’t dial out.  Mistake number 6:  Ensure your technology is fully charged at all times while traveling.

While I was silently praying I would survive the trip home, the driver shot forward into the flow of traffic.  "Okay, found exit," he announced, as though that ought to quiet me.  "We go.  All fine." 

The story continues to deteriorate from here.  I’ll skip  the rest.  The upshot is that I did eventually get home, and after three stops at the side of various streets for consultation with his phone friend the cartographer and his uncooperative GPS,  I handed the driver every cent I had with me, which totaled fifty-seven dollars, almost twice the typical fare.  Unfortunately, though, this was a few cents short of the amount due.  Fearing that he would drive off with my luggage in the back of the car, I waited to exit the vehicle until it was unloaded, then handed him the cash folded up so that he had to stop to count it while I was dragging my bags up my driveway. 

"You really should tip me." he demanded.  "this is not enough.  The fare was more than this," he called after me, suddenly able to communicate. 

I was incredulous.  "Well, maybe it wouldn’t have been, had you not been running the meter while you stopped on the freeway and three other times trying to find my address."  I snapped.  "That’s all I’ve got, so take it and go."  I shoved my bags into my garage, quickly closed the door, and ran inside before he could assault me.  He waited outside my home for a long time before pulling away. 

I wish I had thought to take a photo with my phone.  I might have been able to snap a picture sufficient to identify the driver or the vehicle to the authorities at some point later.  but I didn’t, and I realize now that I could not have anyway, since my phone battery was dead.  So, with no identifying information about the driver, the vehicle, or the cab company, I had no one to whom to complain.

I did make a half-hearted effort to appeal to the local taxi authority, but with no supporting evidence, I came across as though I had conjured up the entire ordeal out of thin air.

The moral of this story is that one just cannot be too careful, and that hazards await at every turn, even those leading to your own driveway.  Please comment below and share your own travel nightmares.  Do you have any of your own tips for travelers who have disabilities?  Let’s start a list. 

  LL

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