Ray-Ban Meta Glasses: An FAFTB Experience

Probably my favorite feature on the Meta Ray-Ban smart glasses isn’t the AI integration, though that part’s impressive. It’s undeniably helpful to get scene descriptions, read signs or menus, identify products, and have answers whispered into your ear by a machine that sees almost as good as you ever could. But as neat as those features are, they still take second place to what I truly love about these glasses: the ability to connect with another human, instantly, through the built-in camera. 

For me, that means calling my wife, Barb.

Don’t get me wrong - tools like Be My Eyes are fantastic. And yes, with these glasses, I can just say “Hey Meta, Be My Eyes,” and within 30 seconds I’m talking to a volunteer who can see exactly what I’m showing them. It's hands-free, seamless, and fast. That alone is powerful. But when I say the most valuable feature is connection, I’m not just talking about volunteers or strangers; I’m talking about Barb. My partner. The person who knows me, who can read between the lines of what I say (or don’t say) and who can offer guidance in a way that no AI or well-meaning volunteer ever could.

The glasses make it easy. If you’ve connected your WhatsApp account in the communications settings on the Meta View app, you can place calls completely hands-free. So when I need to reach Barb, I just say, “Hey Meta, call Barb on WhatsApp,” and within moments, I’m connected. Once the call starts, I double-click the button on the top of the right temple of the glasses, and that switches the call to video mode, giving Barb a direct visual of whatever I’m facing. No fumbling for a phone, no need to hold anything in my hands. Just the world in front of me, streamed to someone who knows how to help.

One recent trip down to the VA hospital really brought home how powerful this is. Barb pulled up to the curb and parked in one of the 30-minute parking zones out front. I grabbed my cane, stepped out of the car, and triggered the call to her before I even made it to the building entrance.

What followed was one of the smoothest, most independent-feeling medical visits I’ve ever had.

Most of the VA building is familiar to me; I’ve been there enough times to memorize the broad strokes. But there are these vast lobby areas where navigation gets tricky. The acoustics are strange, the floors all feel the same, and the hallway entrances are often tucked far across the room with nothing tactile to guide me. That’s where Barb came in. Through the video feed, she could see exactly what I was seeing and gently guided me through.

“Little left. Good. Now straight for about 20 feet. You’re going to veer a touch right once you pass the second pillar.”

Her voice came clearly through the speakers embedded near my temples, and her directions gave me confidence I didn’t even realize I was missing. At one point, she warned me just in time to slow down and avoid nearly mowing over a fellow veteran making his way with a walker. I paused, gave him room, and carried on without incident.

I made it to the lab, checked in, and had my blood drawn. When the technician finished and asked that routine question - “Is someone here for you in the lobby?” - I heard myself say something I hadn’t said in years.

“No. There isn’t.”

And I stood up and walked out.

That might not sound remarkable, but it hit me hard. No waiting around. No relying on staff to guide me out. No looking for Barb in the lobby area. Just walking. And here’s the kicker: no one stopped me. Nobody asked if I needed help. Not one single person tried to intercept me to offer assistance - because I didn’t look like someone who needed it! I walked with purpose. I wasn’t holding a phone out awkwardly or spinning around looking for context clues. I knew where I was going, and I looked like I belonged there. Because I did.

I was back in the car in under 15 minutes. That’s the fastest round trip I’ve ever had at the VA (and easily the most stress-free).

There’s a particular kind of freedom in being able to navigate a place on your own terms with just enough support to feel safe, but not so much that it becomes a production. These glasses gave me that. And Barb did, too. Between her guidance and the discreet power of the Meta Ray-Bans, I had everything I needed.

The AI stuff? Sure, that’s fun. I’ll still ask my glasses to describe what’s on a shelf or read the side of a cereal box. But none of that compares to what I felt walking out of that hospital - my head high, my stride confident, and my wife’s voice still echoing in my ear saying, “You’re good. Just head straight for the exit. You’ve got it.”

And I did.