One of the best things I did on my LA mission’s trip is to go to homeless karaoke night… yes, this is a real thing. A number of years ago a church, Los Angeles Central City Community Church of the Nazarene (yes, this is an incredibly long name for a church), in Skid Row, which is a highly populated homeless area in LA, wanted to do something special for the people there. The church ended up setting up Wednesday night karaoke. I was pretty skeptical at first: homeless karaoke night? Fortunately, my judgemental side was shown up pretty hard because it was incredible to see how much hope and joy karaoke gave the Skid Row people; plus, the talent there was pretty impressive. It was a great night minus two experiences. As guests, my group of eight were told we had to sing a song together and the group decided to sing “All You Need is Love” because who doesn’t love the Beetles? The answer to that question is homeless people at karaoke in LA. We got to the chorus and sing “All you need is love,” and I’m pretty sure I heard someone say “I’d like to be able to afford a place to live.” “All you need is love”… “I’d like to be able to afford groceries.” So as I learned, we do need more than love.
The worst time of the night was when I decided I would work up the courage and try talking to someone at random. I ended up near a guy about my age who was in a wheelchair. Have you ever talked to someone and afterwards thought “I’m an idiot”? This was one of those moments. This was possibly one of the worst attempts at conversation that I (and anyone) have made. I’ve made my share of mistakes, but this… I was on fire. It started well with, “How’s it going?” like a normal person and that was the end of my being normal. That was the end of either of us being normal. His response and I quote: “ASfioaewjfakldfasj.” So I said, “I’m sorry; what was that?” He then looks at me, rolls his eyes, turns his head and starts talking to an imaginary person: “I can’t believe he couldn’t hear what I said.” This time, it was perfectly clear. He then looks at me and says, “ASasldasdfdkjf**.” In my head I’m questioning, “Is this a joke?” I can fully understand the insulting part of the conversation, but not the part I’m supposed to hear. Embarrassed I couldn’t understand him I try to explain myself, “I’m sorry; I have this hearing problem. I have a disability.” The man is in a wheelchair. Comparable? No. It’s like someone saying “You have a terminal illness? I have the sniffles, so I know what you’re going through.” Granted the man wasn’t paralyzed or crippled in any way. He was in a wheelchair because he was missing both of his feet, which is a different kind of disability. It’s not that his feet didn’t work; he just didn’t have any. When I said “disability” he had this look of ‘who the heck are you?’ Now, I’m not being insecure about this. I wasn’t misinterpreting him and being hard on myself. I know he was wondering who the heck I was because he turned to the side again and said, “Who the heck is this guy?” again, in perfect clarity. It turns out I originally thought my so-called disability was with hearing, but my real disability is not having a brain. That’s a pretty big disability.
The embarrassing thing is I was trying so hard to connect with this guy… here’s where it got worse. After some silence where I pretended to be listening to the singer, he turns to me and says that the guy approaching us has a nice wheelchair. If I had a brain I would’ve just smiled and nodded, you know, like a normal person, but I wanted to connect… and had been failing miserably so I thought I’d try to connect again… and see if I can fail worse. He says I like his chair and for some reason my response is: “Is it yours?” Is it yours? Could I have asked a stupider question? You weren’t even there and you know the answer. No, it’s not his chair because it’s the person who’s sitting in its chair. That’s why the other guy is sitting in it because it’s his wheelchair. I think the only worse response would be for me to go over to the guy in the nice wheelchair, grab him by the front of his shirt and throw him on the ground, so I could give his chair to the guy I was talking to. This time when the guy I was talking to rolled his eyes and turned to the side to say “I’ve never met anyone this stupid before,” I was right in there, “I know, right? I’m the stupidest person I’ve ever met too,” because I am.
The good thing about this situation, as stupid as it was, I didn’t spend the rest of my night beating myself up over it. Yeah, I came across pretty stupid, but I know I’m generally good at meeting people minus hot women… and authority figures… and celebrities… and children… and people with accents… so I’m really not good at meeting new people, but I try. I know Yoda wouldn’t approve of this idea, but I need to see the positive that I’m trying to get better at this. I need to celebrate the fact that I tried and the next time I try I can only get better. Besides I’ve given this guy a story to tell his friends for life: “I said someone had a nice chair and he asked me if it was mine? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
This week may you see the good even in the embarrassing.
Rev Chad David, www.ChadDavid.ca, Learning to love dumb people.