My family and I are visiting the USA for a family holiday. Before this trip, my sister and I have never been to North America before in our lives. We live in the UAE, which is located in the middle east. My family is biracial; my dad is German/Brazilian and my mum is Indian. I’m bisexual, and the rest of my family is straight.

We are in the streets of New York, our final destination. This trip has simultaneously been the best and worst we have ever been on. It’s about 12:00 pm and some drag queens avidly speaking in Spanish walk by us, and a nearby man turns to speak to my father.

Man: “Can you believe those f****** [gay slur] [Mexican slur]s? This is why we need the walls — to keep the immigrants out of here.”

Dad: *Smiling* “That’s exactly my thought; the indigenous people need to finally take a stance. I mean, after what your ancestors did to them, it’s only common courtesy for you to go back to Europe.”

Man: “How f****** dare you?! My family built this country! Take your [Mexican slur] wife and kids and get out of here.”

Mum: “I’m from India.”

Man: *Pissed* “Whatever. You’re probably both [gay slur]s.”

I finally speak up.

Me: “No, that’s me.”

Surprisingly, he did not want to talk to us any longer, but the drag queens, who had heard everything, came up to us after and thanked us for standing up to him. They even bought my sister and me a hotdog!

I am traveling across southern Colorado, and I stop at a campground. It is morning and people are in line to take showers. A girl goes into the shower, and about ten minutes go by. Some more time passes. We are all wondering what is taking so long.

Me: “Hey! There are fourteen people in line here waiting for you to finish your shower.”

Another five minutes go by, and the girl finally comes out

Girl: “Now there’re thirteen waiting.”

Me: “No, now there are twenty-one people waiting.”

She didn’t apologize.

Our roommate has ricocheted from a long-term relationship into a new girlfriend. We all think it’s way too soon, but as much as we think that, and as annoying as we all find her, we are happy for him.

Me: “[Roommate]! Has your girlfriend been eating food from the shared fridge again?”

Roommate: “I’m sorry, man. She gets hungry and I don’t have anything she likes.”

Me: “Get something she does like, then. Order in, or spend time at her place. Don’t let her eat my food; it’s expensive and I have to go across town to get it.”

Roommate: “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her. Just, you know, we have fun hanging around with everyone.”

Me: *Sigh* “Fine, it’s fine. Just have a word before tomorrow. I’m getting my grandad’s chilli peppers and I’m not sharing with anyone.”

He says he will. I don’t know if he will do it or if she is ignoring him. A couple of days later, [Roommate]’s girlfriend shows up again and goes straight to his room. I’m in and out all night, and I arrive to find the two of them in a shouting match. The girlfriend pushes past me to leave the house.

Me: “That looked bad. You had an argument?”

Roommate: “Yeah, I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Me: “I’m sorry. This isn’t about the food, is it? I’m sorry if it is, but it had to be said.”

Roommate: “Oh, no. She was angry about that. But when I said it was you, I guess she sneaked into the kitchen to eat some of your food.”

Me: “No, not my chillis.”

Roommate: “Yeah, she took a big mouthful and started crying about how hot they were. She said you poisoned her on purpose and I had to make you apologise.”

Me: “Mate, she wasn’t good for you, and she was annoying as h***.”

He moped around for a few weeks, and after a few months, he found a great girl. They moved in together a while later. They come round every so often and she even brings her own food to share. Definitely an upgrade!

I have a friend who grew up sheltered, meaning he had no TV and his parents controlled what music he listened to, what books he read, and even the people he saw. As a result, he is often innocent and naive, to the point that people often wonder if he’s all there. He has a crush on a beautiful female friend.

Female Friend: “I love Han Solo!” 

She gets up to use the bathroom, and I notice my sheltered friend looking depressed. 

Me: “What’s wrong, [Sheltered Friend]?” 

Sheltered Friend: “She likes this other guy, the one with the Asian name. Han Solo, I think his name is.”

Me: *Starts laughing* “Han Solo isn’t a real person! He’s fictional, in a series of movies and books! She isn’t actually in love with him!”

Sheltered Friend: “Why would she say that, then?”

Me: “It’s just something girls say about someone they like a lot. She could also say she loves [Other Friend] or Stephen King!”

Sheltered Friend: “I know who [Other Friend] is, but who is Stephen King?”

He learned a lot that day.

I’m heading home from my college summer job, and a traffic light changes before I expect it to; I’ve never come this way before. I fumble the clutch and stall the engine.

The guy behind me nearly plows into me and leans on the horn until I get the car restarted. In fact, he whips around me, nearly hitting me as I move off, and he flips me a bird as he does.

At the next light, I’m right behind him… where he proves that he is also driving a manual transmission by stalling his engine!

I tap my horn — just a warbly little “toot!” — and laugh as he flinches.

Karma is seldom so obliging!