(I’m taking one of my best friends, her husband, and her son to the airport. I’ve gotten us onto airport grounds.)
Me: “Where…?”
Husband: “Oh, yeah, okay, you want to be in the middle lane here, but there’s a car there now, and then later, over the ramp, and eventually pull off to the right and park.”
Me: “…”
Friend: “Alaskan.”
Me: “Thanks, that was what I was asking.”
Husband: “…?”
(And that’s why we’ve been friends for sixteen years. She just gets me.)
(I am on Skype with my friend, who is telling me about a live performance he had gone to see the night before.)
Friend: “So, the guy who performed next looked like (DC Comics character) John Constantine; you know what he’s supposed to look like, right? Like somebody took Castiel from Supernatural and watered him…”
(I have recently moved and joined a local Boy Scout troop. It is the first morning of a camping trip.)
Scout #1: “Hey, [My Name], do you hate little bunny rabbits?”
Me: “What?”
Scout #1: “You were talking in your sleep last night. You kept saying, ‘I hate little bunny rabbits.'”
Me: “Ohhh. Yeah, in the town I moved, from there’s a running joke that if you say, ‘I hate little bunny rabbits,’ three times, the campfire smoke won’t blow in your face.”
Scout #2: “Maybe I should try that. I’ve moved four times and it keeps following me. I hate little bunny rabbits. I hate little bunny rabbits. I hate little bunny rabbits.”
(The smoke doesn’t move.)
Scout #2: “Oh, well, you know what they say. Smoke follows beauty.”
(At that exact moment, the smoke started blowing in the opposite direction.)
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(I’m in the Royal Canadian Navy, travelling on duty. I’m in ‘salt-and-peppers’ – white short-sleeved uniform shirt, black uniform trousers, peaked service cap with an anchor in the middle of the badge. This takes place in the waiting area by the gate.)
Little Boy: *looking at me for some time, then turns to his mother* “Mom, is he the pilot man?”
Mother: *looks up briefly then goes back to what she’s doing* “No, dear, he’s in the Army.”
Me: *to little boy* “In the Navy, actually. I’m a sailor.”
Mother: *to me, annoyed* “Army, Navy, it’s all the same!”
