A letter...

Dear Deaf Man at Tom's Garage in Appleton, WI,

I'm sorry.

I didn't know.

How could I have known?

When I first noticed you sitting
with your arms crossed,
not particularly reacting to anything,
I assumed you just didn't like us.

When I said out loud that you looked
like you would be good at golf, I meant it,
sincerely... I meant it.

Something about your hair,
it was coifed and blond in a very
Jack Nicolaus kind of way.

I should know,
I had the Jack Nicolaus golf game
for the 8-bit Nintendo.

I know that hair style,
and you had it down.

When I asked if you were, in fact,
good at golf, you didn't respond.

I did not think for one second
that you could not hear me,
I just assumed you didn't want to talk to me.

It was a strange night,
and stranger things have happened.

Lot's of people don't want to talk to me,
but I couldn't understand why not you...?

What had I done to bother you?

I merely asked about your golf game,
and asked again,
and asked again...

And when the lady sitting with you,
said "we can't hear you"

I thought it was a problem with the sound.

Maybe then I should have realized,
but instead,
I just sang louder about golf.

When still you didn't respond,
I thought you were being surly,
ignoring me in the hopes I would go away.

When I jumped off the stage and ran
right up to your table and sang about
golf right in front of you,
you laughed, but it was a strange laugh,
because it went away just as quickly.

I thought then that you were being game,
playing along,
pretending you were surly for the benefit of the show.

I was so happy with you at that moment,
and when you frowned again,
and your wife frowned,
I knew...
you two were good sports.

When I jumped back on the stage in triumph,
and continued to sing about you,
and golf,
and Jack Nicolaus haircuts,
I felt in my heart that everything
was going to be right, fun, together, us...

When you stormed out three minutes later,
I half expected you to come back in,
smiling, to a round of applause.

The whole audience thinking,
"man... what a team player, pretending to be pissed,
for the good of the Nice Peter show..."

But no.

You were really pissed.

And so was your wife.

And it was then,
onstage,
in front of everyone,
that I pieced it all together.

The sound was fine,

you just....

couldn't hear me.

No matter whether I jumped
off the stage right into your table,
or not.

What a moment of realization.

It's the first time,
to my knowledge,
that I have pissed off a deaf person.

I have taken the time
to learn the American Sign Language
sign for "I'm sorry".

And I'm doing it right now.

Now I'm doing the sign for "awkward".

And now I'm doing the sign for "venetian blinds".

-p