Mute Articulations

A most unfortunate, yet interesting ailment has recently befallen me, and I have had no choice but to reflect upon its consequences (and of course, solicit the attention of my dear readers).

Inevitably this time of year, on long trips across the country trapped in a steel tube filled with
germ decimators  passengers, we flight attendants tend to pick up what is known as "the crud."

This consists from a varying list of symptoms, including but not limited to: cough, runny nose, fever, chest congestion and sinus discomfort. However, this time another symptom has cropped up which I literally cannot explain.

To put it more plainly, I cannot speak. That is not to say I have been struck dumb like the story of the disciple Paul on the road to Damascus, but rather my voicebox has become afflicted with laryngitis.

If you can imagine the sound of a bagpipe left out in the rain and played by a goat, this is very similar to the noise created when I try to converse. Out of pity and respect for the ears of my friends and colleagues, I am left with no other alternative than to respond with hand gestures, nodding, winking and interpretive dance rather than utter an offensive note.

The resulting silence has given me ample opportunity to reflect on what it means to be mute in a profession which requires an incredibly amount of communication.

• Darcy asks me questions, only to remember after a long awkward pause (to my great vexation) that I can't answer.
• A flight attendant assumed I was painfully taciturn when she asked, on my flight to Charlotte, whether this was my final destination or not.
• A police officer in the employee parking lot thought I was terrified when he asked me how my evening was, and I just gaped at him.
• A very annoyed traveler in the Charlotte airport blustered past me after inquiring which was the fastest way to get to concourse C.
• I would be completely unable to play a competitive game of "Marco Polo"
• I've seriously considered learning sign language, and have a much deeper empathy for Helen Keller's lot in life. The woman was a saint.

We really don't know just how much we rely on our vocal chords to relate with other humans more than when we can't utter a sound. It calls into question our intelligence, empathy, and even our self esteem when we can't communicate verbally. If it weren't for my ability to read and write, I would be completely trapped in a silent, white-washed world where I was a second-class citizen; capable of watching but not interacting, influencing.

If I got called on a trip tomorrow, I would be powerless to do my job; much of which requires me to greet, answer questions, brief passengers, and issue instruction.

I ponder the fate of early humanoids who first formed language to share with each other. How painful it must have been until actual words were shared and understood!

I plan on going to the doctor first thing in the morning and getting some blessed antibiotics to end my silent misery. Thanks for listening....with your eyeballs.

To see the original location for this post, click here