He was openly blind and therefore bothersome. He bothered all sorts: the taxi drivers who didn’t like his dog; the school administrators who never really “got him”. He was openly blind and insisted in high school that he should be on the track team. They said no. He would be an insurance risk. He supposed that meant if he was on a team he’d make everyone else blind too.
He bothered all sorts. Once he was followed by a store detective in Macy’s. Confronted, the shamus said: “well you might not be blind, we get all kinds in here.” As if the guide dog was a ruse. What a cunning plan!
He was openly blind and there wasn’t much to be done about it. He spent inordinate time trying to make others feel comfy in his presence. A foolish pursuit, bootless, but he kept at it.
“You can’t control your fate among able bodied people,” he said, “but you can choose to be more beacon than target.”
He did however take to saying things to sighted people that they’d said to him.
“You might not really be sighted,” he said.
“You might need help crossing this street,” he said.
“I think your vision makes you angry,” he said.
“Isn’t that nice! You’re out in the world!” he said.
He didn’t really say these things. He had too much dignity. But thinking them helped.
Planet of the Blind 