In 2007, Boulder singer-songwriter Brian Rocheleau -- better known as Rosh -- was on tour when he happened upon a unique cafe in Iceland.
After ordering a coffee outside, he was handed a braille-printed card and a cane before being ushered into a pitch black room.
鈥淚t was really loud and eventually I bumped into a table and I asked the people sitting there if there was an empty chair available,鈥� Rosh said. 鈥淭hey all said, 鈥榃e don鈥檛 know!鈥欌€�
It was the first time Rosh had to find his way in the dark, but it would be far from the last.
鈥淚t ended up being a really powerful experience -- being in the dark with all these people,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 had no idea if they were black or white or short or tall or older than me or younger than me. And I thought, wow, this would be an interesting way to break down social barriers.鈥�
Ten years later, Rosh鈥檚 project, The Blind Cafe, has served more than 16,000 patrons. The pop-up cafe, which combines food, discussion and music, has expanded from Boulder to include semi-annual events in Seattle, Austin and Portland.
And it鈥檚 about more than just the novelty of navigating in the dark, Rosh said.
鈥淲e鈥檙e not just creating a party where everyone goes crazy in the dark,鈥� he said. 鈥淲e want to create something that鈥檚 intentional.鈥�
From the start of the evening, it鈥檚 clear that they mean business -- particularly about any potential light sources. Cell phones must be turned completely off and all watches put away.
Brandon Langdon, the event鈥檚 鈥淢aster of Darkness,鈥� designed the cafe to be pitch black. At every event, he stands guard at the entryway. Nothing that emits even the slightest hint of light gets past him.
鈥淚s this a Fitbit?鈥� he asked one woman, checking her wrist. 鈥淣o. That鈥檚 just a piece of plastic. Cool. Let鈥檚 go.鈥�
Using canes, waiters Jimmy Jackson and Rick Hammond lead groups through several heavy curtains into the dining room. Both of them are blind.
鈥淲hen people come here, I hope that they leave with a better understanding that blind people are just people like everybody else,鈥� said Hammond, who has been with the cafe since it began. 鈥淲e may do things a little bit differently, but at the end of the day we鈥檙e pretty much just like anyone else that you鈥檙e going to meet.鈥�
That鈥檚 why Hammond leads a Q&A session at every Blind Cafe event. In the dark, he said, people find it easier to open up and ask questions they might otherwise be afraid to ask.
The most common question Hammond gets is about how blind people dream. On this particular evening he also fielded questions about whether blind people could be racist and what his primary sense was.
Hammond took the opportunity on both to dispel some common myths:No, not being able to see does not make people colorblind to race and no, when one sense goes away, the others do not become heightened.
While The Blind Cafe offers only a small window into his experience, Hammond said the impact it has on people can be pretty strong.
鈥淧eople are surprised -- some of them didn鈥檛 think that they had it in them to handle it,鈥� he said.
Guest Mary Wolf had been to The Blind Cafe before and said she likes bringing new people to the cafe to see their reaction.
鈥淚t takes a level of comfort and trust to sit in a room with a bunch of strangers in the dark,鈥� she said.
But her favorite part?
鈥淚 think it鈥檚 the food,鈥� she said. 鈥淓ating and not being able to see it. [...] It鈥檚 passing the food in the dark and you have to touch the person next to you and it becomes -- in our culture that doesn鈥檛 touch a lot -- that intimacy that鈥檚 built within it.鈥�
For people who have never eaten in a completely dark room, a warning: It鈥檚 hard. Really hard. It helps if you work as a team. The first person at the table to realize that the silverware is the left of the plate and that there is a bowl of soup to the right should let the rest of the table know.
It can be very challenging, said Rosh, who has been hired to bring The Blind Cafe to corporations -- including Google and Pepsi -- as teambuilding events.
It makes sense, because after all that went into the evening, by the time the final song is being performed, each table -- whether they are friends, coworkers or some random public radio reporter -- seems to feel a little closer than when they started.
