First up, the eye test. I walked in feeling cocky, thinking I could totally read that tiny line at the bottom. Spoiler: I could not. The optician, a lovely human with the patience of a saint, didn’t even laugh when I called an ‘E’ a ‘B’.
They use this fancy machine that puffs air into your eyeball. Weird? Yes. Terrifying? Only a little. But afterwards, you get to look at a blurry picture of a hot air balloon, which is oddly relaxing. Ten minutes later, I walked out with a prescription that proved my eyes are basically decorative.
The best part? They genuinely explain what’s happening. No confusing jargon, just real talk. “Your eyes are dry. Drink more water and stop staring at your phone at 2am.” Rude? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.
