But I'll let you in on a little secret: I don't wear it.
I'm sure it's just my rebellious ways sticking it to the man, and boy oh boy there's no better way to for that man to be stuck than by my unprotected hearing. He must truly be upset.
Anyway, why any of this is of any importance is because while at work Sunday night, I decided to finally wear the ear plugs that are provided, and it was one of the strangest experiences I've had in a while.
As the foam earplugs slowly began to take on air as well as the shape of my ear canal, the noise surrounding me was slowly dampened. At first it was uncomfortable. Physically uncomfortable. Think constant wet-willy, but dry. And foamy. So really, don't think wet-willy at all.
The physical discomfort passed just about by the time my hearing was entirely dampened. I could no longer hear footsteps, doors being shut, the rumble of the catering vans, and just a murmur was present from the howling jet engines. My ears were comfortable. My other senses were not.
I was almost immediately an animal of prey, if you will. Everything on the tarmac was my predator. Even though I've spent nearly a thousand hours driving around the airport since I've started working, it was all new. The tugs and tow bars seemed always inches behind my bumper. The bag runners sped past and I found myself looking left and right in a nonstop paranoia. The jets parked at the gate seemed as though they were to be pushed back at any second without the presence of wingwalkers. I could hear the van's RPMs neither increasing nor decreasing as I accelerated and decelerated. As I was in the planes catering them I could not hear the upset flight attendants asking for one extra bottle of water. It was strange. It was stressful. It was peaceful.
The entire time my hearing was artificially handicapped, I found that every other sense was overcompensating for the handicap by making me one hundred percent aware of its presence.
I could feel the van shaking viciously as it accelerated.
I could smell the jet fuel in the air so strongly that my stomach became upset.
I could see everything going on in front of me while my peripheral was going haywire.
I could taste the salt being kicked up in the air by the jets' engines.
All in all, such an experience was to be expected. Yes, it was bizarre, but similarly to when an animal in nature is born without the strength of a certain sense, all others must make up for it.
What really threw me for a loop, though, was when I finally took the earplugs out. I walked into the break room after working my seven o'clock flight bank and approached the table as my brother and another coworker were having a muffled conversation. I sort of just stood there for a few seconds before deciding it was time to take the earplugs out and listen to their conversation.
Of course when I took them out I could hear the conversation more clearly, but on top of that, I could hear the low hum of the refrigerator, the nearly supersonic white noise that almost everyone forgets about until they stop to listen for it, and the rustling of my coat sleeve against my body. Particularly the rustling, as there was a solid five seconds between removing the earplugs and finally realizing where the noise was coming from, and why it was so damn loud.
From this experience during an all-too-normal day at work, I realized a few things:
- The sense of hearing is quite possibly one of the senses we rely on the most in our day to day lives; be it listening for cars while crossing the street, or for the shouts of warning when we really shouldn't cross the street.
- Each and every one of our senses are capable of providing much stronger signals than they do when we combine the use of each sense, simply because we don't need each of our senses working at their best when each can work with mediocrity.
- Finally, I take sound for granted.
And here's a nice little tune for you to listen to. An oldie but a goody, as they say:
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