See Deaf people? Speak in rhymes!

Even though I'm sick and all, my friend Mr. Shineyhead, who's Deaf, took me to a bar down the street this evening at about 11:30. I'd been watching his dog all day, and he wanted to thank me for doing so, as well as chat with me about his complicated love life.

I told him a couple stories about my trip to Hawaii, including my experience with the "shark creeps" and that whole body surfing fiasco. I'm in the middle of the body surfing story when the following incident occurs. I wil report it verbatim:

UCM (signing): The face of the waves were normally about three to four feet, and as they started to peak, I could feel them tugging at my legs like this....

A strange woman walks up and fingerspells, "h-i." She looks at me, not at Mr. Shineyhead, who is well-known in the local Deaf community and by many people who know sign in this area.

I wave back at her. She's interrupted my story, but I pause to see what she wants. There are chairs stacked up next to us, and I assume she's after one. But ... no. Instead, I swear to fucking god, she proceeds with the following, both signing and speaking:

"One fish, two fish."

She stops and thinks for a minute. Then continues:

"Red fish, blue fish."

She appears *very* pleased with herself. I smile and never let on for a second that I can hear her, because well ... this is so fucking absurd, I don't know what to say. I look over at Mr. Shineyhead. He's leaning back in his chair, a bemused look on his face. The woman has her back to him. She continues:

"Black," she says, and realizes she doesn't know the sign. She looks at me, leans into my face, speaks loudly and contorts her lips to EE-NUN-SEE-ATE her words: "BLLLAAAACK. WHAT. IS. THE. SIGN. FOR. BLACK?"

I show it to her.

And so she continues, now signing and speaking her rhyme loudly and DIS-TINCT-LY: "Black fish. Blue fish."

I nod, knowingly and in cadence, as she concludes: "Old fish. New fish."

Right.

So any of you who know me might be able to imagine the look on my face. Dr. M would probably refer to it as "the crazy Italians on a train smile," which is something I pretty much reserve for kooks ... and crazy Italians. I think I threw in a few blinks for good measure.

I sign, Thank you, to her. Because what the hell else am I gonna say? Stunning performance of Seuss, dear. Just grand! Did they teach you that in kindergarten or is that strictly a first-grade kind of thing?

I was rather tempted to speak to her, I can hear you. But I particularly appreciate you enunciating so well over the din of the music in this place.

Instead, I remain silent and smile. Which is pretty much what Deaf people do, in my experience. She was so pleased with herself when she walked away.

I looked over at Mr. Shineyhead.

"You notice, didn't you, that I didn't help you out there?" he asked. "You know why? Because this shit happens *all the time* to Deaf people. Hearing people come up, interrupt our conversations and say strange crap all the time. I thought you should know what it feels like, so I just stayed out of it. She thought you were Deaf! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

So I see, I replied. What the fuck is up with that? She must've been drunk, coming up and reciting a child's poem to me like that.

He shook his head.

"Most of the time people do that, they're not drunk."

Well, I almost spoke to her, I replied. But I figured she was already embarassing herself enough as it is.

I wonder, though: Should I have said something? Who was going to learn the more important lesson? Her by hearing me speak and realizing she was making a fool or herself? Or me by remaining silent and getting a little glimpse of something my friend deals with on a daily basis?

Whatever.

I resumed my body surfing story. ...But on this one wave, the face must have been five feet.... And from all corners of the bar, I could see people staring at me. Although I have signed in public -- in restaurants, in stores, while walking down the street, wherever -- for many years now, I have never felt so conspicuous as in that bar.

Most peculiar, momma.