No Interpreter, But I Went Anyway

By Tom Willard

This is a parable, a fable, a make-believer, whatever you want to call it.

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The event sounded interesting so I sent in my registration form and fees.  In the “notes” section I said I was deaf and would need a qualified sign-language interpreter.

As is the custom, they turned me down flat.  (They said I could bring my own and they’d only charge that person half price.)  But this time I decided to do something different.  This time I decided to go anyway.

I arrived in the big room as people were getting settled.  Hundreds of people were on hand.  It didn’t matter where I sat, so I sat up front.

I sat there awkwardly, looking around as others chatted.  I mused about the cost of the floral decorations vs. the expense of an interpreter.  A woman came up to me and said something.  Before I could reply, she said something else, roared in laughter and hurried away.

Things came to order and the first speaker got up.

Oh good, he had a Powerpoint, something to look at.  He then left a slide with the workshop name up for 10 minutes.  With nothing else to do, I analyzed the font and graphics and colors and design and what he was wearing and how he parted his hair.  I didn’t understand a word he was saying so all I could do was entertain myself with my own thoughts.

I felt kind of bad for him since I couldn’t laugh at his jokes.  Surely he noticed in the crowd that one person seemed oddly out of it.  I didn’t applaud either.  Why should I?  I’m not going to be a fake hearing person and pretend to understand when I don’t.

My phone buzzed.  It was a friend asking me what’s up.  I said I was in a workshop and all.  It was nice to have a little interaction with someone.  I clicked send, looked up and saw that everyone was looking at me.  I turned to the speaker and he said something.

When I didn’t reply, he got a little angry.  I could tell by his gestures that he wanted me to come up there.

So I went up there.  And he said something.  I waited a bit and then I said something back.

I didn’t say, “I’m sorry, I’m deaf, I can’t understand you.”  Why should I apologize?

I said, “I’m deaf.  When I signed up for this event, I asked for an interpreter.  This is my right under the ADA.  They refused.  I came anyway to show you what happens when you don’t comply with the ADA.  THIS is what happens when you don’t comply with the ADA.  I can’t understand a word you are saying.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to my seat, where I will continue to not understand you while thinking bad things about you and your organization.”

I sat back down.  The speaker seemed flustered.  He looked around and said something.  I could tell he was asking if anyone knew sign language.

Finally a hand went up.  A person came up.

The person signed:  “How you?  Fine.  Thank you.  You welcome.  Shit.  Fuck.  Penis.  Vagina.”

Then said, “That’s all I know.”  And sat back down.

I let out an Al Gore-like sigh and pulled out a crossword puzzle and started working on it.

But everyone kept looking at me.  I don’t know why the speaker didn’t get on with his program.  I guess I was a disturbance, a disruption, a bother, a nuisance, an unwanted presence.

I should have just stayed home.  But wasn’t the whole point of the ADA to let people with disabilities do things?

A couple of burly guys in suits gestured for me to get up.  I did, and they grabbed me by my shoulders and hustled me out of there like a president getting shot at.

I was arrested, handcuffed, fingerprinted, jailed and put on display in the town square (actually the mall since that’s where people are nowadays).

The sign underneath said, HAD THE AUDACITY TO EXPECT ACCESS FOR DEAF PEOPLE AT A PUBLIC EVENT.

THE END

(and again, fiction, fairy tale, fable etc.)