I was trying to pop my ear on the checkout line. Pollen allergies make everything sound like my head is under water so I was opening and closing my mouth widely to unplug whatever tube was clogged in my head.
The cashier watched me and squinted, “excuse me?” he called over the heads of the customers in front of me.
He clearly thought my jaw bouncing up and down was me saying something to him that he couldn’t hear. I froze my chin in the open position then slowly returned it to closed. To think that I would strike up a conversation with him while I’m two customers deep on the checkout line was odd enough, but to think that I form my words by dropping my chin to my neck for each word like a marionette was just fucking crazy.
Nonetheless, this did present an opportunity.
I cleared my throat loudly and said “how are you?” mouthing those words with same jawline gymnastics I used to clear my plugged ear.
(Remember those Chuck E. Cheese robots when their mouths just flopped open when they sang? That.)
He didn’t answer me and made a face that reflected regret. He looked like he had a bit of an attitude too.
I had a couple of minutes to come up with a good plan before I started putting my stuff on the belt.
I rubbed my ear.
“This stupid ear,” I said when I reached him, “I had a hearing test yesterday. The damndest thing- I get intermittent silence. Have you gotten a hearing test recently?” I asked him.
“No.” He answered shuffling my purchases without looking up from the conveyor belt.
“It’s important. They’re the only ears you’ll get. We’re not starfish; they don’t fall off and grow back. Your eyes too. You need to get them checked. You’re probably due.”
The teenager bagging chimed in with a sleepy monotone voice, “Dude, he’s right, get it checked cause you’re, like, legit medieval.”
“I’M 38, DAVID…and stop with that ‘dude’ crap. Mind your own business.” He looked back at me, “What is this?” he asked, examining something he’d never seen before.
“That’s a Dragonfruit,” I told him. He typed in a code, weighed it, and rolled it to David to bag.
I needed this cashier to look at my face. “You know what I find interesting about ears?” I asked loudly enough to get him to look up at me, “It’s the (at this point I stopped saying words but kept my mouth moving).”
“The what?”
“I said, I think that (I did it again, bouncing my chin up and down) because hearing can (and again) before you know it.”
He grimaced a bit. “What?”
“Buddy, you can’t hear what (-did it again) to you?”
“I can hear fine; I just can’t hear you.”
“Whoa. That’s exactly what the woman said at the ear doctor (-and again) before they (-this time a little longer) massive brown hearing aid.”
He gave me a dead stare and a flat joyless “ha ha.” He totaled the order. “Look, I can hear fine because I can hear all the other sounds around me except your words.”
“That’s called ‘auditory hypnosis’ – where you get so used to sounds around you that you think you’re still hearing them when you really aren’t.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“ Well, I heard every word you just said.” He shook his head.
I gave a resigned shrug and helped with the bagging.
“That’ll be $61.70”
“Oh, right, let me get that.” I dug my hand into my pocket and came out with my thumb arched over my empty palm. “Here you go.”
“C’mon man. Cut it out.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing there.”
I leaned in, “WAIT, YOU CAN’T SEE THE MONEY?!”
“Dude, Your eyeballs are dying. You should go home.”
“David, SHUT UP!”
I like David.
The world needs more Davids.