COLUMN: Glasses help avoid awkward post-drinking mornings

f.jan11.glassescolumn.bakerGlasses help avoid awkward post-drinking morningsBy David Baker

“You only have to wear your glasses when you want to see,” the optometrist said. “OK.” Even though he sounded wise – like Confucius – I was reluctant to trust the bastard. He’d been shining bright lights in my eyes for almost an hour at that point. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to brainwash me – turn me into some rabid, froth-mouthed Scientologist – punish me for a plethora of crimes committed against tact and common decency, or if he actually thought this was a healthy exercise for the eyes to be subjected to. “Your eyes really don’t like these bright lights, do they?” The guy had a million of these. Priceless. “Well … you know.” After the light show, some sage advice and a few bad jokes – example: “So are you like required to wear glasses if you work at an eye doctor?” Crickets. A tough room. “Not really.” “I was just wondering, since all of you wear them. Ha.” I got my new glasses. These things have been a long time coming. I’ve been squinting for about two years now, and my mom was tired of me looking like an old Asian lunch lady sans hairnet and sloppy-joe-coated apron. The worst part is, I like these glasses. They have bestowed upon me something genetics and lifestyle choices had taken away – sight. This isn’t regular sight, either. I’m seeing the world in full 1080i HD. I’m waiting for the other superpowers to kick in. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I can get some x-ray vision, invisibility or at least some clairvoyance from these things. For now, I’m pleased with the extra sight. It was extremely helpful in the holiday bar scene in Moab, Utah. Actual dialogue: Friend 1: “Dude, why are you wearing your glasses?” Me: “It’s necessary. I thought some of the chicks at this bar were starting to look attractive.” Laughter. A few beers later: Me: “Guess why I had to go get my glasses?” Friend 2: “I don’t know.” Me: “Because some of the girls at this bar were starting to look attractive.” Laughs. Friend 2: “Drink more, they’ll all look good.” Another pitcher: Me: “Guess why I’m wearing my glasses.” Girl 1: “You can’t see?” Me: “Girls at this bar were starting to look attractive. Ha.” Cue the evil eye. It’s OK, with my new glasses I was able to get a good look at her – she looked less like a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader and more like their starting right guard. Kids, the moral of the story is: Glasses can help you see more clearly that the hot chick across the smoky bar is indeed your mustached high school janitor, but they can’t cure your drunken stupidity. Sobriety is the only prescription there, but I wouldn’t recommend that to anyone. The truth is, I have no idea how girls really feel about glasses. Maybe females think glasses give me an air of sophistication. I doubt it. It would take a hell of a lot more than glasses to polish this turd into a museum-enjoying, brandy-sipping, classical music aficionado. It was a lot easier to ascertain what the cowboy-boot-wearing, Skoal-ring-in-their-Wranglers, Toby Keith worshipers at the bar thought. The combination of my glasses, beard, and the blue collar of my button-up shirt hanging out over my brown sweater had me pegged as some liberal yahoo – perhaps a visiting professor of art history there to talk about French Impressionism. In a rough, intolerant scene like Moab’s bars can be, looking like you recycle on a consistent basis, can read at grade level and could have voted for Nader is the recipe for an ass kicking. I can’t say I helped my cause when I started moon walking across the dance floor to the pre-creeper Michael Jackson favorite, “Billie Jean.” Come to think of it, the glasses don’t get the blame on that one – probably a product of the shots and pitchers. Glasses aren’t going to be able to correct your drunken habits or your beer goggles. But at least if you need glasses, you can just leave them off in the morning when you wake up next to Hulk Hogan.-da.bake@aggiemail.usu.edu