Down the Tubes Productions

A hearing impaired woman got on the train with her two Boston Italian parents…

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it is my current reality as I am writing this “in real time” from an Amtrak rattling its way to the tri-state area. Due to the crowded occupancy, we were separated by a few train cars. Luckily, Mom and Dad handed over my meatball sandwiches prior to boarding. One thing about the Italians, we travel with enough food to end a famine. Just in case. 

I am a seasoned and confident traveler on planes, trains, and automobiles. My hearing loss factors into some moments of confusion or need for reassurance, but fortunately I am outgoing enough to approach complete strangers – be they employees or fellow passengers – to ask for clarification as needed. For example, if I am unsure of a gate number or which track a train would be pulling into or any manner of things that may have me befuddled. To quote the alluring Blanche DuBois  – “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers”. 

I settled my parents in their respective seats, then trudged along to find a spot for myself, meatball sandwiches nestled in my travel bag. As I traversed the aisles, it dawned on me that due to being separated from my travel companions, sitting next to a stranger invites the possibility of a social interaction. This possibility then leads to hearing loss disclosure to ensure smooth communication. To say I was not in the mood for such nonsense would be an understatement. 

I needed a strategy. 

I judged books by their covers – in this case, people. In a flash of inspiration, I opted to seek someone asleep with an empty seat beside them on the aisle. I could stealthily creep into the seat and leave them in slumber. I avoided people around my age or older as in my experiences tend to be the likely initiators of conversation that I most certainly did not ask for this fine morning. I spotted a college aged young person, claimed my seat, and was greeted with a brief opening of his eyes. I was then rewarded by his head lolling back down into a deep sleep. Phenomenal. Leave me alone. 

Satisfied that I hopped over the first hurdle, I waited for the second to appear. 

I knew the conductor would be roaming about checking tickets while we rattled down the rails. I simultaneously realized that my hearing loss may play into this interaction and that my Dad has my train ticket on his phone many, many rows away. Whoops. 

Time to employ my charming, dimpled smile and a casual, well placed hair flip – or a “toss toss” for all of you Wicked fans. Upon his approach, I prepared to dazzle with the healthy dose of charm of which I have been blessed that has gotten me both into – and out of – trouble. And dazzle I did as my presence on the train sans ticket was met with a smile and a “no problem”. 

I was convinced I was in the clear. Until another conductor – with the personality of a sponge – popped by to question my presence on the train without a ticket. He was the rare person immune to my charms. I opted to disclose my hearing loss and ask him to face me while speaking, as he was mumbling. He complied with a blank stare. I explained my plight (again) accompanied by a dazzling smile turned up to the max setting. He asked for my identification, relented, and with a tiny grin said “I got you”. 

Having been saved by being tossed to the tracks somewhere in Rhode Island, I flopped back into my seat. I was relaxed, snuggled under my jacket as I am perpetually frigid when the climate drops below 78 degrees, and began to drift into a sure to be peaceful slumber as the swaying of the train rocked me to sleep. As I was about to fall completely under the swell of the lullaby of the locomotive, my head snapped up sharply. I realized that I was alone and could not ignore anything in my environment because I was at risk of missing the spot at which I must depart. 

I was denied my train nap. The one thing that motivated me to rise and shine at an obnoxiously early hour for a weekend day. I needed my train nap! 

I glanced about desperately searching for a visual display listing the stops for this trip as I knew that I could not rely on garbled announcements. It was nowhere to be found. Curious to me that there are digital displays with captions at the station, but not on the train? This trip has now turned into a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book and – as previously established – I was not in the mood for nonsense. 

I flipped through my mental filofax, searching for strategies to ensure that I departed the train at the correct stop. I came up with the following: 

• I researched the destination list of this trip, and counted the stops from the previous station to where I was headed on this snowy day. 
• I set a timer to alert me when it was 20 minutes prior to the estimated time of arrival. This would allow me time to pack up my belongings and focus my attention on all environmental clues as I waited to depart the train. 
• I immersed myself in writing this blog in a vain effort to stay awake, whilst mourning the removal of my beloved train nap. 

Once again, every minute of my existence is impacted by my hearing loss. 

I guess that “tracks” (heh).