(I am flying with my dog in-cabin. While he’s generally very good with the security screening process, he can get excited if people pay him attention. I have just cleared the metal detector with him in my arms and been asked to go through a residue test by the TSA agent. I walk over for the agent to swab my hands, dog still in my arms, when a little girl runs up and tries to pet my dog.)

Me: “Sweetie, please go back to your parents for a minute. Once I’m done with this test and have my dog’s collar and leash back on, you can pet him, okay?”

Little Girl: “Okay! I’ll pet him in a minute!” *skips away*

(I am cleared from the residue test and walk over to the baggage belt to put my dog’s collar and leash back on and put him back in his carrier. While I am just about done with clipping his collar back on, someone grabs my arm and forcefully turns me around, leaving my dog unsecured, halfway into his carrier, with no leash or collar on.)

Man: *yelling* “Did you tell my little girl that she couldn’t pet your dog?”

Me: *scrambling to make sure my dog is controlled so that I don’t cause a disruption, and therefore turning away from the man* “I don’t know. I told a little girl that she’d have to wait to pet him. Right now, I just need to secure him unless you want this whole airport shut down to search for a loose dog. Please step away until I can get his leash back on.”

(I somehow manage to clip my dog’s collar, leash attached, back on, while this man continues to tower over me, TSA agents closing in to diffuse the situation. Once I have my dog secured again, I turn back to him.)

Me: “So, I assume that was your daughter who came up and tried to pet him while I was still being screened? As I told her, she’s welcome to pet my dog now that we’re finished with screening and he’s back on his leash, but it’s obvious that you need a little more self-control as well as control over your children!”

Little Girl: *coming up from behind the man* “He’s on his leash now. Can I pet him?”

Me: “Of course, sweetheart. We just need to walk over to these benches so that we don’t keep other people from getting their bags.”

(I grab my purse, lift my dog out of his carrier on the belt, grab his carrier, and walk over to the bench. She and the man follow.)

Me: “He likes to get pets, but you understand that you have to ask and get permission before petting a dog, right?”

Little Girl: “I will ask. He’s so funny! He keeps knocking my hand onto his head.”

Me: “He likes you.” *I smile at her… Truth told, my dog likes everyone, with a soft spot for kids*

Man: “Uh, I guess I owe you an apology.”

Me: “You do, but you can pay it forward by keeping a better eye on her and NEVER, EVER treating anyone like you did me again.”

Man: “Yeah, I suppose that was a bad choice. Come on, [Little Girl], we have to get to our plane. I’m sorry, for as much as that’s worth.”

(I do hope he learned his lesson. Holiday travel is stressful, but his five-ish-year-old was more understanding than he was, initially…)

(I am old enough that my parents acknowledged that I don’t need my own babysitter, but I am not yet old enough yet to be left in charge of my two younger sisters. My parents leave my sisters in the care of the eldest son of one of my mom’s friends. I end up having to come along because they don’t want me home alone. The son takes the typical teenager’s approach to babysitting by treating me like a baby, despite the fact that he’s only three years older than me, and by forcing us all to go to bed at eight while he stays in the basement all night with his girlfriend. For the entire night, the only interactions he made with us were him shouting at us from downstairs if the floorboards so much as creaked.)

Sister: *gets up to go to the bathroom*

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Sister: “I have to pee!”

Friend’s Son: “THEN PEE AND GO TO BED!”

(A few moments later my youngest sister, who is only a toddler, runs out of milk in her sippy cup. Because she refuses to go to sleep unless she has a drink next to her in case she gets thirsty in the night, I get up to get her some more.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Me: “I’m getting my sister something to drink!”

Friend’s Son: “YOU ALREADY GOT HER ONE HALF AN HOUR AGO! GO TO BED!”

Me: “She’s out! I’ll go to bed when I get her a drink!”

Friend’s Son: “FINE! HURRY UP!”

(Not long after I return, my sister rolls over and creates a creaking sound.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

(I cough.)

Friend’s Son: “GO TO BED!”

Me: *under my breath* “I can’t wait until Mom and Dad get back home…”

Friend’s Son: “I JUST TOLD YOU TO GO TO BED!”

(Fortunately that was the only time he ever babysat us.)

(I’m standing by the edge of the mosh pit at a concert, when a young woman gets bounced at an unfortunate angle and goes flying out of it backwards. Luckily I manage to catch her under the arms before she falls down. She bounces to her feet, thanks me with a smile, and dives back in. The guy beside me scowls.)

Him: “Real typical, right?”

Me: “What?”

Him: “She couldn’t even show a little appreciation for you catching her like that.”

Me: “She did say thank you.”

Him: “Yeah, girls always say they want the nice guy and then give you the brush off, am I right? Could’ve at least hung around to talk to you.”

Me: “Why would she do that?”

Him: “So wait, you’re telling me you didn’t catch her so you could get some of that?”

Me: “No, I did it so she wouldn’t get hurt.”

Him: “Bull. What’s in it for you if she’s not all grateful and stuff?”

Me: “Well, tonight a pretty girl smiled at me after I got to hold her in my arms, however briefly. Can you say the same?”

(He gave me one last disbelieving look and stomped off. I’m betting not a lot of women, pretty or otherwise, smile at him.)

(I’m standing in line, listening to the two women behind me talk about the candy this store has placed in perfect impulse-buy position.)

Woman #1: “How do you make Star Wars-flavored jelly beans?”

Me & Woman #2: *at the same time* “They taste like The Dark Side.”