The Smaht Guy

I have to make a statement that I don’t like making. It sounds arrogant, and I do not believe myself better than anyone else when each individual’s strengths and weaknesses are tallied.
I am often–but far from always–the smartest guy in the room.
Intelligence has not gotten me all that far; I have a permanent disconnection to other people in general and this can make it hard to utilize specifically. I have intellectual friends, and friends whose company I greatly love without ever really noticing that they are not what the "smart crowds" call my type." I have low standards: if I enjoy the company and get a few laughs out of time together and the other person is of good character, I make friends without worrying too much about common interests.
I try not to use big words, although guess at times I underestimate how big some might be. Particularly in my time as a property manager, I developed a "Schneider the Super" persona in large part to keep people in my solidly working class neighborhood comfortable in our interactions.
My intelligence is not just empty book smart leaning towards "greater" philosophical leanings. I seldom find people like that top be very practical. The intelligence I have, however, is intuitive, creative and analytical. Those applications lend themselves much more broadly than sheer intellectualism.
This can be a problem for people sometimes. People who think they’re smarter than they are often develop problems with my casual from-the-hip attitude. Those who need to derive a personal sense of superiority from their intelligence often develop problems with me. I’m no better than anyone else, but I am no worse either. I have never had much patience in inflating anyone’s ego, power trip, or God complex.
Usually try to just let the world tun as it may until something I perceive as a problem crosses my personal lines in the sand. I’m not quiet or submissive after that happens.
During my stay at Sturdy Hospital, I was the smartest person in the room for the entire imprisonment. Worse, my movements were restricted because I got labeled as a trip and fall (thus lawsuit) hazard. Add to this that a blind guy, as I have learned, is often considered with the same regard as a piece of furniture in the room.
Blindness is confused with stupidity. When I complained that the portable urinal had not been rinsed out over the entire weekend, the nurse questioned how a blind guy could know that. I heard the pour into the toilet, the flush, and the steps back to my bedside, but never heard any water running or bottle filling or being re-empties. That is not rocket science.
The piss bottle became the foundation of a difficult hospital stay. I definitely got the impression that "my problems were twofold I was smart enough to know what was going on around me, and uncouth enough o question it.
I maintain that I was simply paying attention and taking an active role in my treatment. It turns out–yet again–that doctors don’t like that.