Here At The Shore...
Jul. 5th, 2009 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
exhilarationI was reading one of my favorite books out in my car on my break yesterday, "The Cider House Rules," and that Dr. Larch, he always starts his journal entries with "Here in St. Cloud's..." or "In other parts of the world..."
Here at the shore, summer is tourist season and holidays are tourist madness. Here at the shore, if you live here, well, you just don't celebrate that shit. You work. Unless you've got, like, a real job or something. But a lot of people don't. A lot of people work two, or even three jobs in the summer and then don't work at all in the winter. My boyfriend has a landscaping job in the summer - if ever you were curious as to why I never write about us going out on dates or doing wild stuff like that, well, usually, he's at work. Obviously I work too, but not the kind of hours he does, and not even close.
Here at the shore there are summer people called "shoobs" (rhymes with noobs") and they, oh, they have a blast on the fourth of july, bringing in their stash of illegal explosives and then setting them off on the beach at night. Did I see any of this? No, of course not. I was at work. I can see the fireworks in AC from my house, too, but see, I was at work. B and his friends actually drove up to AC after work (which was like... one in the morning) but I was feeling generally like shit and did not want to go along for fear I'd just be miserable and bog everyone down. They all won money, though, so good for them I guess.
Yesterday at work I learned something very cool about my boyfriend: he can talk in ASL. Er, communicate in ASL, I guess? You know, American Sign Language. Can I? Well, yeah, like, the words to worship songs and stuff. I learned in church when I was a kid, and it's weird the words I can pick out of a conversation, like "people" and "world" and "face" and other random stuff. Can I have a conversation in ASL? Of course not. Can my boyfriend? Yes he can.
Well Shock And Awe!
Deaf guests are difficult for me to deal with in the restaurant, because, well, they shout at me, and that immediately puts me on the defensive. I know they can't hear themselves and can't control the tone of their voices, but seriously. I guess I'm just super-sensitive to tones or something, because everything they say sounds rude and nasty, and half the time I think they really are being rude and nasty, especially if it's like the third time they've had to repeat themselves before they're understood, even if those three times they had to repeat themselves wasn't in a conversation with me.
In the summer, because we are so busy, we don't let people sit down until their entire party is in the building. This causes endless problems, but it's especially difficult to communicate this policy with Deaf guests (yes, there is a sign posted explaining the policy, but you know how people argue to get their way about everything. People think they're VIPs, you know, that sign is for everyone else.)
I think the same thing about ASL as I think about every other language that isn't English - if you're trying hard enough to mutually understand each other, you can. In other words... kind of like I tell guests they can't sit down until their entire party is in the building, and suddenly they don't understand English. I tell them in Spanish, but suddenly my American accent is incomprehensible. They begin to yell at me and deliberately speak so quickly even I, who have heard Spanish since I was a little girl, can't follow what they're saying. If we truly wanted to understand each other, we could. But since they don't like what I'm saying... they won't communicate with me. Not in English, not in Spanish, not in gestures, nothing.
If these people really wanted to communicate with me, they'd stop shouting in my face (and yes, I'm sure they're not trying to shout, but they're talking over me when I'm explaining/pointing to the seating policy) that they're a party of four. If I write something down, they'd read it, not throw it back at me. If I ask a question (such as, is the rest of your party parking the car or are they meeting you here?) they'd either say they can't understand me, or answer me, not talk over me. Even if they can't hear, they know I'm talking if they're looking right at me - right?
I don't want to be disrespectful to anyone - it's how the job works - but it gets pretty fucking trying when people argue with every single thing I say, and the whole "you can't sit down until your whole party is here" gets argued with Every. Single. Time. I say it.
Anyway. The Deaf people who talked over me. Who shouted "four! Four people!" at me while I pointed to the sign saying only complete parties would be seated, and shouted "no smoking! No smoking!" at me when I tried to ask how soon the other two people would be joining them (cause honestly - had they said they were outside or something, I would have just let them sit down. I was about to write them a note saying so, but they kept shouting at me and then the man grabbed the paper out of my hand and threw it back at me - Deaf people can be assholes just like everyone else I guess)
I dunno if they couldn't read lips or were choosing not to or just couldn't read mine (which is also possible, cause other people seem to have trouble specifically with mine) but I suggested they go have a drink at the bar while they waited for the other two people, and they thought (or pretended to think - seriously, I trust no one!) I was directing them over there where someone else would take them to their seat, even though I just explained that they couldn't sit down without the rest of their party... I mean, really, what am I supposed to do to communicate other than write stuff down, if they can't read lips? (Although, Deaf people who speak usually do read lips... just a thought...) I'd hate to be the jerk if I'm wrong, but the guy did grab my note out of my hand and throw it back at me. I know my handwriting is awful, but really!
Anyway. I move on. They left the lobby and that's all that concerned me for that very moment. I take other people's names and call other people's names and talk over the headset and nothing of interest happens until two more Deaf people come in. I assume they're part of the party of four and direct them over to the bar to meet their friends, and call a host over the headset to give them the next available table, since they're complete. And when I look over at the bar...
I see that my awesomesauce boyfriend has smoothed over the entire situation, and all four of them decide to eat at the bar, since the bartender KNOWS ASL, and leave him a bangin' tip, and (motherfuckin') pat me on the head on their way out (just the lady, but grrrrrr, I know I'm short but fuck you - and everyone can say that one in sign language) and how freakin' cool is that? I watched them. This wasn't just him pointing to the taps and them nodding at the beer they wanted. They were having a real conversation.
And so last night, while I sat on a bar stool and vacuumed the wine bottles and B was labeling everything in the fridges, I demanded my explanation - "How in the world can you speak sign?"
And he just shrugged and was like, "I don't know it that well."
Uh huh. This sounds suspiciously like me saying I don't know Spanish that well. "Yeah well you know it well enough to talk to those Deaf people from earlier."
"Yeah they didn't like you."
"That's cause I told them they couldn't sit down!"
They were also, he told me, from the Poconos (that's in PA) and interested in buying six packs of beer while in NJ (which you cannot do in PA) but didn't realize that the whole island was dry, and he gave them directions to a few liquor stores on the mainland.
That counts as knowing ASL pretty darn well, as far as I'm concerned.
"So you learned sign how?"
He said he learned in school.
In college? He took ASL in college or something?
No. He learned in elementary school.
Ok so, they teach all the kids in elementary school ASL? Really?
And he put down his sharpie and masking tape and stood up from the fridge and was like, ok, look, remember how I said when I was a little kid I couldn't talk?
And I was like, no, I do not remember that. You told me nothing of the sort.
And he was like, yes, I did, I told you how I had a really bad lisp and no one could understand me.
And I was like, no, you told me you had a lisp when you were a kid and it never really went away.
And he was like, okay, well, when I started school, they thought something was wrong with me and made me go to speech class because no one could understand what I was saying, ever.
So how does this have anything to do with him learning ASL? Well. In his speech class, along with other kids who couldn't say certain letters or make certain sounds, there was a partially deaf kid who could hear with hearing aides but not well enough to speak normally without, you know, being taught by a teacher. This kid had an older sister who had no hearing at all, and the brother and sister spoke sign to each other, and the brother spoke out loud while he signed, and my boyfriend learned from them.
So, that's a pretty cool thing for a little kid to pick up like that. I know little kids are pretty much geniuses when it comes to languages - until you reach a certain age, I think you can pick up any language without having to study it or work at it or whatever. And he picked up sign.
Awesomesauce, and I told him so. And he insisted, again, that he's not that good at it. Whatev. I'm impressed.
He also told me that he kept going to speech until he was part way through tenth grade and he never "graduated" from it like everyone else that was in the class, he just stopped going.
What I want to know is how the FUCK his dad and stepmom did not think something might possibly be off about their son if he could not speak intelligibly by the time he started school... yeah all right. I think I can stop puzzling over why my boyfriend is always so reluctant to talk to anyone and why he's so quiet all the time. I mean, we talk a lot at home or in the car. In social situations... he's just... dead silent. I'm loud. Very. He's just... not. At all.
And he speaks fine. He's quiet, but, I mean, as long as we're not in, like, a very noisy and crowded place or something, I understand him perfectly and anyone would. Just... regular-sounding speech. But I guess I can see how if whatever his problem was lasted until he was in middle school, or longer, he just got used to, you know, not talking at all.
Oh, also during this conversation (while he deck-brushed the bar floor and I put plastic wrap over the well bottles) I learned that my boyfriend did not go to his senior prom because he was suspended from school. What a hoodlum!
Here at the shore everyone knows everyone else's business. Although it's jam-packed with tourists in the summer, essentially, it's a small town. Sometimes I really do wish I had grown up here. I wish I could have known some of the people I know now when they were in high school, or when I was in high school (or both, I guess, right?) - I wish I was part of this great elaborate mythology people seem to have created about "remember back when xyz happened and so and so did this and oh, yeah, weren't those the days when we were young and dumb?"
Here at the shore everyone has made out with someone in a lifeguard stand at some point.
Here at the shore we let the tourists eat the deep-fried oreos and we call them shoobs.
Here at the shore there are no freaky kids hanging out at the pavilion anymore because these days everyone is emo.
Here at the shore no one is pretending it's the Summer of Love because everyone is busy listening to hip hop and pretending they're from Philly.
Here at the shore, there's really no good place to go on a date - not even a coffee shop, because I got fired from the only coffee shop on the island and I don't play mini-golf for shit - you know, me and balls and stuff.
Here at the shore, there is a floating hot dog stand out in the bay and my grandfather used to tell me about how he would get a hot dog from the floating stand while he fished. It's real, peeps. Cross my heard. I've seen it.
I didn't see it tonight, but, I was in the bay tonight.
Yeah, that's right. In it. Deliberately. The water's just starting to warm up, and not that fast because it hasn't been a very warm summer, but the bay warms up faster than the ocean.
Me and B went on a "date." We went swimming in the bay at sunset (oh and this is so not allowed, highly against the rules here!) This was totally planned. It's not like we were standing on the bridge watching the sun go down (cause you can't do that in the summer, cause all the tourists are driving over the bridge and they don't let you just stand on the side of it or everyone would start doing it) and decided to jump in or anything. No, B said to me, "let's go swimming in the bay, want to?"
And we totally did, and the water was just shy of perfect (kinda cold still) and smelled just a little foul (cause we were near the marshes) but this is NJ so whatever, and I mistook red seaweed for hair, yes I did, thought I found a body floating in the bay but I didn't, and the thing about the water in NJ is that even though it's brown and you know it's brown, after about six at night, it looks like it's dark blue. It's a very pretty illusion. And I like to swim, and I love that I'm in shape enough to stay afloat in the bay for that long, and it was, dare I say, romantic?
It's okay to do sweet, romantic stuff with my boyfriend. I don't know where I got the idea that I don't like this stuff or that it's somehow pathetic. It's not at all, and I fucking love it.
Today, here at the shore, I am a happy person.
<3
Here at the shore, summer is tourist season and holidays are tourist madness. Here at the shore, if you live here, well, you just don't celebrate that shit. You work. Unless you've got, like, a real job or something. But a lot of people don't. A lot of people work two, or even three jobs in the summer and then don't work at all in the winter. My boyfriend has a landscaping job in the summer - if ever you were curious as to why I never write about us going out on dates or doing wild stuff like that, well, usually, he's at work. Obviously I work too, but not the kind of hours he does, and not even close.
Here at the shore there are summer people called "shoobs" (rhymes with noobs") and they, oh, they have a blast on the fourth of july, bringing in their stash of illegal explosives and then setting them off on the beach at night. Did I see any of this? No, of course not. I was at work. I can see the fireworks in AC from my house, too, but see, I was at work. B and his friends actually drove up to AC after work (which was like... one in the morning) but I was feeling generally like shit and did not want to go along for fear I'd just be miserable and bog everyone down. They all won money, though, so good for them I guess.
Yesterday at work I learned something very cool about my boyfriend: he can talk in ASL. Er, communicate in ASL, I guess? You know, American Sign Language. Can I? Well, yeah, like, the words to worship songs and stuff. I learned in church when I was a kid, and it's weird the words I can pick out of a conversation, like "people" and "world" and "face" and other random stuff. Can I have a conversation in ASL? Of course not. Can my boyfriend? Yes he can.
Well Shock And Awe!
Deaf guests are difficult for me to deal with in the restaurant, because, well, they shout at me, and that immediately puts me on the defensive. I know they can't hear themselves and can't control the tone of their voices, but seriously. I guess I'm just super-sensitive to tones or something, because everything they say sounds rude and nasty, and half the time I think they really are being rude and nasty, especially if it's like the third time they've had to repeat themselves before they're understood, even if those three times they had to repeat themselves wasn't in a conversation with me.
In the summer, because we are so busy, we don't let people sit down until their entire party is in the building. This causes endless problems, but it's especially difficult to communicate this policy with Deaf guests (yes, there is a sign posted explaining the policy, but you know how people argue to get their way about everything. People think they're VIPs, you know, that sign is for everyone else.)
I think the same thing about ASL as I think about every other language that isn't English - if you're trying hard enough to mutually understand each other, you can. In other words... kind of like I tell guests they can't sit down until their entire party is in the building, and suddenly they don't understand English. I tell them in Spanish, but suddenly my American accent is incomprehensible. They begin to yell at me and deliberately speak so quickly even I, who have heard Spanish since I was a little girl, can't follow what they're saying. If we truly wanted to understand each other, we could. But since they don't like what I'm saying... they won't communicate with me. Not in English, not in Spanish, not in gestures, nothing.
If these people really wanted to communicate with me, they'd stop shouting in my face (and yes, I'm sure they're not trying to shout, but they're talking over me when I'm explaining/pointing to the seating policy) that they're a party of four. If I write something down, they'd read it, not throw it back at me. If I ask a question (such as, is the rest of your party parking the car or are they meeting you here?) they'd either say they can't understand me, or answer me, not talk over me. Even if they can't hear, they know I'm talking if they're looking right at me - right?
I don't want to be disrespectful to anyone - it's how the job works - but it gets pretty fucking trying when people argue with every single thing I say, and the whole "you can't sit down until your whole party is here" gets argued with Every. Single. Time. I say it.
Anyway. The Deaf people who talked over me. Who shouted "four! Four people!" at me while I pointed to the sign saying only complete parties would be seated, and shouted "no smoking! No smoking!" at me when I tried to ask how soon the other two people would be joining them (cause honestly - had they said they were outside or something, I would have just let them sit down. I was about to write them a note saying so, but they kept shouting at me and then the man grabbed the paper out of my hand and threw it back at me - Deaf people can be assholes just like everyone else I guess)
I dunno if they couldn't read lips or were choosing not to or just couldn't read mine (which is also possible, cause other people seem to have trouble specifically with mine) but I suggested they go have a drink at the bar while they waited for the other two people, and they thought (or pretended to think - seriously, I trust no one!) I was directing them over there where someone else would take them to their seat, even though I just explained that they couldn't sit down without the rest of their party... I mean, really, what am I supposed to do to communicate other than write stuff down, if they can't read lips? (Although, Deaf people who speak usually do read lips... just a thought...) I'd hate to be the jerk if I'm wrong, but the guy did grab my note out of my hand and throw it back at me. I know my handwriting is awful, but really!
Anyway. I move on. They left the lobby and that's all that concerned me for that very moment. I take other people's names and call other people's names and talk over the headset and nothing of interest happens until two more Deaf people come in. I assume they're part of the party of four and direct them over to the bar to meet their friends, and call a host over the headset to give them the next available table, since they're complete. And when I look over at the bar...
I see that my awesomesauce boyfriend has smoothed over the entire situation, and all four of them decide to eat at the bar, since the bartender KNOWS ASL, and leave him a bangin' tip, and (motherfuckin') pat me on the head on their way out (just the lady, but grrrrrr, I know I'm short but fuck you - and everyone can say that one in sign language) and how freakin' cool is that? I watched them. This wasn't just him pointing to the taps and them nodding at the beer they wanted. They were having a real conversation.
And so last night, while I sat on a bar stool and vacuumed the wine bottles and B was labeling everything in the fridges, I demanded my explanation - "How in the world can you speak sign?"
And he just shrugged and was like, "I don't know it that well."
Uh huh. This sounds suspiciously like me saying I don't know Spanish that well. "Yeah well you know it well enough to talk to those Deaf people from earlier."
"Yeah they didn't like you."
"That's cause I told them they couldn't sit down!"
They were also, he told me, from the Poconos (that's in PA) and interested in buying six packs of beer while in NJ (which you cannot do in PA) but didn't realize that the whole island was dry, and he gave them directions to a few liquor stores on the mainland.
That counts as knowing ASL pretty darn well, as far as I'm concerned.
"So you learned sign how?"
He said he learned in school.
In college? He took ASL in college or something?
No. He learned in elementary school.
Ok so, they teach all the kids in elementary school ASL? Really?
And he put down his sharpie and masking tape and stood up from the fridge and was like, ok, look, remember how I said when I was a little kid I couldn't talk?
And I was like, no, I do not remember that. You told me nothing of the sort.
And he was like, yes, I did, I told you how I had a really bad lisp and no one could understand me.
And I was like, no, you told me you had a lisp when you were a kid and it never really went away.
And he was like, okay, well, when I started school, they thought something was wrong with me and made me go to speech class because no one could understand what I was saying, ever.
So how does this have anything to do with him learning ASL? Well. In his speech class, along with other kids who couldn't say certain letters or make certain sounds, there was a partially deaf kid who could hear with hearing aides but not well enough to speak normally without, you know, being taught by a teacher. This kid had an older sister who had no hearing at all, and the brother and sister spoke sign to each other, and the brother spoke out loud while he signed, and my boyfriend learned from them.
So, that's a pretty cool thing for a little kid to pick up like that. I know little kids are pretty much geniuses when it comes to languages - until you reach a certain age, I think you can pick up any language without having to study it or work at it or whatever. And he picked up sign.
Awesomesauce, and I told him so. And he insisted, again, that he's not that good at it. Whatev. I'm impressed.
He also told me that he kept going to speech until he was part way through tenth grade and he never "graduated" from it like everyone else that was in the class, he just stopped going.
What I want to know is how the FUCK his dad and stepmom did not think something might possibly be off about their son if he could not speak intelligibly by the time he started school... yeah all right. I think I can stop puzzling over why my boyfriend is always so reluctant to talk to anyone and why he's so quiet all the time. I mean, we talk a lot at home or in the car. In social situations... he's just... dead silent. I'm loud. Very. He's just... not. At all.
And he speaks fine. He's quiet, but, I mean, as long as we're not in, like, a very noisy and crowded place or something, I understand him perfectly and anyone would. Just... regular-sounding speech. But I guess I can see how if whatever his problem was lasted until he was in middle school, or longer, he just got used to, you know, not talking at all.
Oh, also during this conversation (while he deck-brushed the bar floor and I put plastic wrap over the well bottles) I learned that my boyfriend did not go to his senior prom because he was suspended from school. What a hoodlum!
Here at the shore everyone knows everyone else's business. Although it's jam-packed with tourists in the summer, essentially, it's a small town. Sometimes I really do wish I had grown up here. I wish I could have known some of the people I know now when they were in high school, or when I was in high school (or both, I guess, right?) - I wish I was part of this great elaborate mythology people seem to have created about "remember back when xyz happened and so and so did this and oh, yeah, weren't those the days when we were young and dumb?"
Here at the shore everyone has made out with someone in a lifeguard stand at some point.
Here at the shore we let the tourists eat the deep-fried oreos and we call them shoobs.
Here at the shore there are no freaky kids hanging out at the pavilion anymore because these days everyone is emo.
Here at the shore no one is pretending it's the Summer of Love because everyone is busy listening to hip hop and pretending they're from Philly.
Here at the shore, there's really no good place to go on a date - not even a coffee shop, because I got fired from the only coffee shop on the island and I don't play mini-golf for shit - you know, me and balls and stuff.
Here at the shore, there is a floating hot dog stand out in the bay and my grandfather used to tell me about how he would get a hot dog from the floating stand while he fished. It's real, peeps. Cross my heard. I've seen it.
I didn't see it tonight, but, I was in the bay tonight.
Yeah, that's right. In it. Deliberately. The water's just starting to warm up, and not that fast because it hasn't been a very warm summer, but the bay warms up faster than the ocean.
Me and B went on a "date." We went swimming in the bay at sunset (oh and this is so not allowed, highly against the rules here!) This was totally planned. It's not like we were standing on the bridge watching the sun go down (cause you can't do that in the summer, cause all the tourists are driving over the bridge and they don't let you just stand on the side of it or everyone would start doing it) and decided to jump in or anything. No, B said to me, "let's go swimming in the bay, want to?"
And we totally did, and the water was just shy of perfect (kinda cold still) and smelled just a little foul (cause we were near the marshes) but this is NJ so whatever, and I mistook red seaweed for hair, yes I did, thought I found a body floating in the bay but I didn't, and the thing about the water in NJ is that even though it's brown and you know it's brown, after about six at night, it looks like it's dark blue. It's a very pretty illusion. And I like to swim, and I love that I'm in shape enough to stay afloat in the bay for that long, and it was, dare I say, romantic?
It's okay to do sweet, romantic stuff with my boyfriend. I don't know where I got the idea that I don't like this stuff or that it's somehow pathetic. It's not at all, and I fucking love it.
Today, here at the shore, I am a happy person.
<3
