For everyone who doesn’t happen to know: I am blind in my left eye. This is a pretty recent development, but so far it doesn’t seem to have cramped my style–biking, driving, getting through crowds on the subway, no problem.

But this past Saturday, I realized just exactly how much I can miss. I was on Isla Mujeres, at the ferry dock to go back to Cancun. I’d arrived a little bit early for the 11:30 boat; I bought my ticket in a leisurely fashion, and then wandered over to read some assorted tourist info posted on the wall inside the little wood-frame shelter in front of the dock.

I was about one paragraph into a treatise on whale sharks when in my left ear someone said, “Hablas espanol?” I turned to see this guy right next to me, looking a little miffed that I’d been ignoring him. Yes, I speak Spanish, but I haven’t gotten around to figuring out how to explain that I can’t see you if you sneak up on my left side… Not worth it, in this case, as the guy was just trying to sell me a snorkel tour. I showed him my Cancun ticket and told him I was leaving, so no thanks, and he wandered away.

That was a little clue, of course, that I was not really getting the whole picture at the ferry dock. And I did check my watch and look around to assess the crowd. The boat would be arriving off to my left, I knew, but I figured I’d hear the ruckus caused by everyone boarding, and really, how could I miss a giant super-fast blue-and-yellow ferry?

So I went back to reading about how whale sharks are called “rasp-tooth” in Latin.

Then, just a few minutes later, I looked over to see the ferry pulling away.

Somehow, fifty people had boarded the thing in total silence, and the only person left was the guy who’d try to sell me on snorkeling. That jerk knew I had a ticket to Cancun, but did he happen to point out that the ferry was going? No, of course he didn’t–because he assumed I could see the boat just like everyone else.

So as I’m standing there gaping at the ass of the boat, Sr. Snorkel comes over to me, points at his watch and at the boat, and says, “Exacto! En Mexico, el barco esta exacto!” I swear he said “exacto” about eight times, as though to drive home the point that I was a lazy slug who couldn’t be bothered to get on a boat on time, and that I shouldn’t be assuming that I was in some slack country that didn’t follow schedules.

I just said, “Crap!” about eight times and stomped off.

The next boat left an hour later. I was still in a pretty bitter mood when I got on, but then some American guy kept talking to me, so I couldn’t stew anymore. I ended up giving him a ride to his hotel because it was raining. I didn’t tell him I couldn’t see so well either.