I’m at a party and we are playing Thirty Seconds, where you have to describe five terms on a card and your team has to guess them in thirty seconds. It is my team’s turn.
Team Member: “It’s a phone. It’s also a fruit.”
Me: “Bananaphone!”
The entire room erupted laughing and I didn’t live it down for years. The word was “blackberry,” by the way.
As a raised Christian who has since turned agnostic (bordering on atheistic), I make a point of maintaining an “agree to disagree” policy when communicating with other religious people. I give a simple nod and neutral reaction to any statements referring to their faith.
However, one friend I have had since high school is so deeply religious, it has me questioning whether it is faith or sheer madness. For example, she told me she had been permanently banned from returning to a church where she’d been a member for many years. I asked what happened.
Friend: “I had a dream that [Pastor] was having sex with [Twelve-Year-Old Girl]! And I knew in my heart this was a revelation from God. I told his wife about it and then told [Twelve-Year-Old Girl]’s parents that they should sit down with her and find out what was going on.”
Sometime later, she lost her job and remained unemployed for quite some time. She mentioned to me that the public assistance she was using was about to expire and she was concerned she was going to lose her apartment.
Me: “I know for a fact my job is hiring because we’ve been seriously understaffed after a group of people moved on after graduating from college. I’m great friends with the team leader and even the human resources manager; I can definitely set you up with an interview!”
Friend: “No… I don’t feel that God is leading me in that direction.”
Me: “Okay… but what are you going to do? You’re running out of time.”
Friend: “Maybe go to Syria and share the word of God with the terrorists so they will stop killing innocent people.”
Me: *Holding in various comments* “Okay, not that you would survive longer than two weeks, but how do you intend to get over there with no money and survive with no source of income?”
Friend: “God will take care of me.”
Me: “Right. Well, what’s your plan B if you aren’t able to make it out of town?”
Friend: “I have no choice but to wait on a sign from God. I’m hoping for an epiphany or for Him to send an angel to tell me what I should do next.”
I’m stunned into silence… and then I start slowly flapping my arms.
Me: “I’m Saint [My Name], sent directly from Heaven with a special message just for you. You are about to be homeless soon. Get… a… job!”
I’m at the amusement park with my family. My mom and a few of my family members decide to sit this ride out since they’re not a huge fan of water rides, so my two little sisters, my cousin, my best friend, and I decide to ride the Water Rapids. The line for the ride is around an hour or so long, and we think it won’t be too bad since wait times at amusement parks tend to be overestimated to give guests buffer time.
We get in line, and around five minutes in, one guy decides to go ahead of the line because a group of his friends went ahead and saved the spot in line for the rest of their group. As he passes by the family of four in front of us, the mom and dad immediately complain.
Dad: “Hey, you can’t do that, man. That’s unfair.”
Guy #1: “Oh, no, my friends went ahead of the line for me, so I’m just meeting them.”
And he proceeds to bolt past them.
The mom and dad shake their heads and go back to talking to their kids. Two minutes later, another guy comes past everyone behind us and past us before being stopped by the mom and dad.
Mom: “Hey. No. This is not okay. You need to go to the back of the line.”
Guy #2: “My friends are at the front of the line. We got split up because I needed to use the restroom, so they said they’d go to save me a spot and I could meet up with them.”
Dad: “That’s not fair.”
Mom: “This is not okay. You’re making everyone wait longer now, and my daughter looks like she’s about to pass out from the heat.”
Daughter: *Embarrassed* “Mom, I’m fine.”
The guy tries to get through, and the mom begins to block him like it’s defense in basketball, so he doesn’t go past them in the line. His friend then calls him on his phone.
Guy #2: “Yeah, I’m still in the back of the line. Mr. and Mrs. Jerk here aren’t letting me through.”
My whole family starts laughing, and others around us even let out a laugh, as well.
He ends up standing with us.
Guy #2: “I’m sorry for cutting in front of you.”
Me: “No worries, it’s not a big deal.”
My sisters and everyone else agree with me since we really don’t think it’s something to argue about.
Me: “It’s really fine. I feel like everyone saves a spot in line when you have a big group at the amusement parks.”
The mom then turns around and looks at me.
Mom: “Oh, so you think it’s okay to cut people in line?”
I get heated because it wasn’t a conversation I was trying to have with her.
Me: “One, I wasn’t talking to you, and two, don’t tell me you’ve never cut anyone else in line in your entire life.”
Mom: “See, this is what’s wrong with this generation; they don’t know right from wrong.”
My sisters, who are seventeen and sixteen, jump in.
Sister #1: “Okay, I’m sorry, but when did this become a generational issue?”
Sister #2: “If you want to talk about generations, let’s mention how your generation basically left all the f***** up things to our generation to fix.”
Sister #1: “We can keep going if you’d like, because I would love to know who you voted for.”
The mom has no response to what we say, and the guy in line with us just keeps laughing and agreeing with the words we are throwing at her.
Sister #2: “This is about someone that is ‘cutting the line,’ and even if he was cutting, THIS WILL NOT MATTER IN THREE HOURS, LADY.”
The couple stays quiet for the time being.
Five minutes later, we see another group of people cutting the line, and, still heated over all of this, I yell out:
Me: “Oh, my gosh! Look at those people! They’re cutting the line and making it wayyyyy longer for you guys to get to the ride. Are you going to stop them?”
We get no response from the mom and dad, and we just sigh, finding it ridiculous how they handled an unnecessary situation.
We finally get to the front of the line, and everyone is able to go with their groups and ride the ride. At the end of the ride, the family’s boat is next to ours, and my little sister ends the whole ride experience with:
Sister #2: “SO, DID YOU GUYS ENJOY THE RIDE?”
I am waiting at a bus station/park-and-ride a ways out in the county. It is winter and rather cold, so I’m bundled up in a very puffy, hooded coat, and I’m also wearing a black balaclava/ski mask-type of thing but with my nose and mouth uncovered.
As I settle in to wait for my connecting bus, a man gets off another bus. We are the only two on the platform. I am a woman and I’m 5’1”, and at my best estimate, this man is maybe 5’10” — tall enough to make me feel kind of small, but I’m aware my short height makes that easy to do.
The man mutters something I can’t quite make out.
Half Of My Brain #1: “Did he just say the word ‘terrorist’?”
Half Of My Brain #2: “Stop being paranoid. See, he’s going down to the other end of the platform.”
Nevertheless, I move to a bench that puts my back against the wall. I’ve always preferred that, anyway. I kid you not, twenty minutes later, the man comes back and walks straight up to me.
Man: “Are you a terrorist?”
I’m internally short-circuiting because who ASKS THAT?
Me: “What?”
Man: “Are you a terrorist?”
Me: “I don’t understand.”
Man: “Well, you look like one.”
Me: *As confused as possible* “What— How do I look like a terrorist?”
Man: “Never mind. Forget it.” *Walks off again*
My bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes! Luckily for me, another bus arrived about five minutes later. More people got off it and the man got on, leaving me with a much more relaxed wait for my bus. My best guess is that my balaclava looked like a headscarf of some sort. Headscarf on a woman equals Muslim, and Muslim equals terrorist, obviously. HORRIBLE man.
I’m not someone who adapts very well to changes. I get upset if a site I regularly use changes its design after five years of having it one certain way, and if I find a style I like, I will stay with it until I personally get tired of it. I’m not someone who follows “trends” at all and never have been, even in my teens.
With that said, I find myself having to shop for my clothes online since most of the popular clothing boutiques and stores don’t carry the kinds of clothes that I like.
I am casually shopping for groceries and a security guard stops me near the door.
Security Guard: “Sorry to bother you, but I just had to say, I love those jeans. It’s a real blast from the past! I haven’t seen that in almost twenty years! They used to be really popular with college kids back in 2004, 2005!”
A couple of days later, I am getting a haircut in a salon, and someone passes by.
Stranger: “D***, 2000 is back!”
They start singing a popular Backstreet Boys song.
Needless to say, I quite soon find myself in a clothing store, and when I am asked if I am looking for anything in particular:
Me: “Just updating my wardrobe before I start turning into my parents!”
