I am an American visiting an old village in Japan that’s popular with tourists. Part of the charm of the main street is the locals engaging in age-old crafts outside their places of business, from traditional mochi-making to calligraphy. It’s mostly for the tourists, of course, but it’s still charming.

Another American family is touring nearby. The two sons — the oldest is maybe seven — are impressed with everything they’ve seen so far.

Boy: “Dad! Dad! Look!”

Dad: “Yeah, that’s cool.”

Boy: “That man is 3D-printing a chair!”

I quickly turn to look, and I see that the boy is impressed with this old Japanese carpenter shaving off some unwanted pieces of wood from the side of a stool he is making.

Dad: “Ooh, boy. Okay, son, let me tell you what carpentry is…”

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Back about twenty years ago, a vegetarian friend was on a bus tour of Russia. At one point, the whole group had a banquet. All the other tables had food piled up. The vegetarians were at a table together, and in the middle was a large pot of soup. One member of the party dipped the ladle into the soup, and it came out with a whole chicken!

They complained to the waiter, explaining that they don’t eat flesh, so the waiter removed the chicken from the pot and walked away.

End of story, they did not eat that night. Hopefully, they had snacks back in their hotel rooms!

My friend, fiancé, and I traveled to Iceland back in 2016. As we were hiking up to the tucked-away warmed pool of Seljavallalaug, we got to talking with a couple from California.

Woman: “Where are you from?”

Me: “We’re all Canadians.”

Woman: “How long did you have to drive?”

Me: “Our hostel isn’t too far away — about an hour or so drive.”

Woman: *Giggling* “Oh, no, let me rephrase my question: how long did you have to drive to Iceland?”

All of us, even the woman’s partner, stopped and stood in awkward silence. I asked if she was serious (just to make sure) and, unfortunately, she was. I had to fight back the temptation to be sarcastic.

Me: “Well, you see, Iceland is an island, and Canada is a part of North America — not to mention that Greenland is between the two, and it’s also an island. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Woman: “Oh, so you flew over on a plane. I thought with all the ice, you could drive over it.”

I am a tour guide at a historical plantation in the American South. A significant part of the tour, aside from the old, preserved buildings, is the many huts and accommodations where enslaved people lived.

Most of the tour group is pleasant, taking in the history, but there is one older couple who keeps scoffing and sneering as soon as I mention anything to do with slavery.

Older Woman: “Oh, Lord, here we go again. Yes, yes, we get it; they had slaves. We just came here to see the nice houses.”

Me: “Ma’am, as I have mentioned, we here at [Historical Museum] have a responsibility to provide all the context of the history of the site. It would be remiss of us to talk about the beauty of the manor without also addressing how it was afforded and maintained.”

Older Man: “Ugh, we thought we’d be safe down here in Louisiana, but even all of y’all have gone woke.”

Me: “It’s ‘woke’ to talk about slavery?”

Older Man: “Slavery was hundreds of years ago!”

Me: “Just over 150 years ago, actually, and if that’s too old for you to consider relevant, then you would have to apply that same logic to the manor you were just admiring.”

Older Woman: “We didn’t come on this tour to be lectured and made to feel guilty about slavery!”

Me: “Then this isn’t the tour for you. Feel free to head to the ground’s exit at any time, but I will be continuing this tour as intended.”

They scoff and make disparaging sounds at that, but they still stick around for the tour.

When it is time to leave, I see them heading over to their vehicle, which proudly flies both the US and Confederate flags.

The older man sees me staring at the flags.

Older Man: “Now, this is real American history, son! None of that woke guilty BS!”

Me: “The confederacy lasted four years. Slavery lasted three hundred. I think I know which had a bigger impact on American history, sir.”

He looked like he wanted to storm up and punch me. (He could have; he looked a lot bigger and stronger than me, despite his age.) But he ended up just spitting on the ground near me and driving off.

The Yelp review was not kind, but it was hilarious.

I am a tour guide in Central America. I’ve taken a small group of American women travelling together on a week-long itinerary to a restaurant that specializes in local cuisine that is hard to find in most places in the USA. They’re all enjoying the meal, except one.

Me: “[Tourist], are you okay? Do you not like the food?”

Tourist: “I’m fine, thanks.”

I notice that she has started to munch on a protein bar.

Me: “Are you not feeling well?”

Tourist: *Sternly* “I’m fine, thanks!“

I leave it for now, and we continue our tour. I notice the entire day that she eats only from a small duffel bag of protein bars. I am now worried that we’ve neglected to take account of any dietary requirements, and I bring this up with her.

Tourist: “No, it’s just I don’t trust any of this local food!”

Me: “I assure you that we are only going to highly-regarded and well-maintained restaurants. They’re perfectly safe for—”

Tourist: “It’s all Mexican food!”

Me: “Well, yes, we’re in Mexico. But we’ve also been to a wide range of eateries, not just Mexican, such as—”

Tourist: “Yes, but they’re all in Mexico! Look, I’ll be fine! Just do the tour!”

By day four, she was complaining of stomach cramps, and her farts were so bad that I thought they would strip the paint off the interior of the bus. I had to help her find a McDonald’s or something so that she would eat actual food.

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