Natural curiosity in the face of blind Elvis

Last weekend, I met my first blind dude.

I didn't know he was blind. He looked nothing like Ray Charles. I met him when I walked into Amber's house, and it took about a half hour for someone to tell me he's blind - and even then, only because I sorta stepped in it.

See, Amber is gorgeous, but she doesn't always realize that. So when she was explaining how she felt fat and ugly (which we women do all the time when men aren't listening,) I said, look, take it from us. We're the people with functioning eyes who actually have to look at you. And she says, well, not exactly.

Seriously, he looks nothing like Andrea Bocelli.

Naturally, I am fascinated. What can you see? Basically light and color. How do you get around? Why are your eyes so pretty? (They are the color of honey; I am not kidding.) Do you have a dog? I don't care what you think, but you are so not driving.

He's awesome. He didn't seem to mind the barrage of questions, and I just find him fascinating. And I love him even more because he seems to have brought out the best in Amber. She describes him as "perfect" without a single thought to his eyesight, or lack thereof. He went with us to karaoke. He sings a perfect Elvis. And realize what all that means; he doesn't get the benefit of the words, or even knowing what song he's going to be singing before the intro starts. He can't read the screen, he just sings. (He also walks perilously close to the edge of the stage, but he's figured this whole thing out so he's fine.)

My day in Lake Geneva was fantastic. I came away with an awesome haircut, ate a delicious bagel sandwich, got to have some quality Amber time, sang a little karaoke, and had my eyes opened by blind Elvis. It really doesn't get much better than that.