- I spent my life being told the dangers of looking at an eclipse unprotected, so I didn’t. Yesterday, my wife was going to watch it with grandkids, so I researched the glasses.
I went to get a pair from a guy selling glasses from his truck, which had a table next to it. He handed me a pair, but I had the numbers written down. He was ready for me and read the numbers. All good, but one problem.Me: These are 2015 glasses. They’re nine years old.Him: I don’t know. 5 dollars.Me: They’re nine years old. You get these for free and sell them for 5 bucks. You have quite a racket going here.
But I bought the glasses, went home, and warned my wife to be careful. I warned her the glasses were old. She reminded me I said only the numbers mattered. I only bought one pair since I wasn’t going.
But after nine years, a scratch is enough, and after nine years, there had to be a problem.
I kept talking to her, trying to convince her not to go. I told her she could be blind with a couple seconds of exposure.
A friend of mine came over. She handed him the glasses to try on. The guy has a head the size of a watermelon. Now, the glasses would fall off her head while watching the eclipse. I showed my wife pictures of people holding the sides of the glasses against their heads with their hands. I told her to make sure to do this to be safe.
When she left, I again instructed her to keep herself safe. I was going to stay home but decided to run an errand. I grabbed my cane—yes, I use a cane. It’s my Bat Masterson look.
We were in the path of totality. As I was driving, it was starting to get dark. I put my lights on, stopped the car, and glanced at the Sun. It looked hazy. When I got to the end of the back road, I stopped and looked again. The Sun was almost blocked, so I started driving again. Another mile, and I was where I needed to be. I looked up again. The Sun was blocked, and the corona circled it. My glances were all short.
When I returned from the store, the Sun was really bright. I looked up, but it was too bright. I got in my car and drove to Watermelon Head’s house—actually, one of the barns. I told him on the way over that I could see wavy lines in front of my eyes. I have a somewhat large floater, which was now still, and my eyes hurt slightly.
My wife called while I was there. I told her what I was experiencing with my eyes. She expressed disbelief after hearing what I had done after all of my yapping about the importance of the right glasses, but she showed no concern.
Me: I could go blind,
Her: We’ll get you a white cane.
Uproarious laughter from Watermelon Head.
