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Cruising For A Playdate

, , , , , | Friendly | May 16, 2026

Years ago, I had my son, who had just turned two, outside on a bike that had a handle that let me push him around. I’d push him down most of the street, then turn around and go back to the house in a loop to keep him entertained.

As I’d just turned around to start the loop over again, I heard a woman call out to me.

Woman: “I feel your pain, pushing kids around, I really do.”

I turned to see a woman rounding the corner, pushing her own handle-driven toddler-mobile, except hers was in the shape of a car that the kid could sit in.

A bit unexpectedly, it was not a toddler, but a seven-year-ish-old girl wearing skates who was plopped in the seat with her legs hanging out over the roof of the car. In the seven-year-old’s lap was the toddler who was supposed to be riding in the car, having evidently been evicted and relocated when the seven-year-old got tired of skating during their walk. The woman continues to talk to the seven-year-old.

Woman: “Of course, hers is at least a bit lighter. My car is much heavier and harder to move than usual, for some mysterious reason.”

The woman continued to speak and joke with the seven-year-old she was pushing as they continued down the road on the opposite side of the street from me. We ended up syncing up, so we were walking at about the same pace on opposite sides of the street from each other.

Woman: “[Toddler’s Name], look, there’s another kid your age. Want to wave hi?”

Both toddlers ended up waving at each other, then as they were waving, our pace took us past a car parked on the street, blocking the kids’ view of each other.

Woman: “Oh no, he disappeared! Where is he!?”

Soon, I ended up passing the car so the kids could see each other again.

Woman: “Peekaboo! There he is!”

This continued as we passed cars, each child giggling when their peer came back in view and then waving at each other. That is, until we reached the point where I was due to turn around and head back to the house. As soon as I turned around, my son started making little sounds of distress and reaching towards the direction the women and her kids had gone. At practically the same time, I heard the woman speak to the seven-year-old.

Woman: “[Toddler’s Name] wants to turn around so she can keep waving to her little boyfriend.”

Seven-Year-Old: “We can turn around, that’s okay.”

Woman: “That’s easy for you to say. I think my car is over its carrying capacity. It doesn’t exactly turn easily. That’s what I get for picking up a hitchhiker.”

Seven-Year-Old: “I’ll get up so you can turn!”

[Women] looked over at me and as if to check that I’d be comfortable with them following me back towards the house or not. Since I had no real reason, I needed to turn around beyond not originally planning on a longer walk, I gave in and turned back around the way the others were traveling.

Me: “Guess I’m going on a hike after all.”

Woman: “You sure? I didn’t mean to drag you around the neighborhood.”

Me: “I’m just the chauffeur, I go where the boss—” *Pointing to [Son].* “—tells me to, which is apparently that way.”

Woman: “That I can relate to.”

So we walked all the way to the very opposite side of our development with the two toddlers giggling and waving at each other the entire way, and [Woman] making commentary about it all (and a few more joking complaints about having too many passengers in her car) to her older daughter. Eventually, we reached their house.

Woman: “Look, we’re finally home!”

Her toddler pouts some and reaches across the street towards us.

Seven-Year-Old: “Can’t they stay and play here?”

Woman: “You’re welcome to stay for a playdate if you want, since you’re here; I could get you a drink or something.”

I accepted and finally crossed the street to be on the same side as them. Immediately, both toddlers begged to get out and run up to each other, still waving and grinning hysterically.

The kids played outside in the yard for a while, but eventually we were invited in to get drinks for everyone. As [Woman] opened the door, she called in to her husband.

Woman: “Honey, I’m home. You won’t believe what followed me home this time.”

Seven-Year-Old: “Can we keep them?”

And that’s the story of how my son picked his first, and best, friend. We do playdates every other week now, and the two kids are inseparable. Turns out a meet-cute is extra cute when it involves toddlers.

When The System Doesn’t Apply, Neither Do Its Products

, , , , , , | Right | May 16, 2026

Me: “Your total is $7.56.”

Customer: “The menu says $6.99! Why does it cost more?!”

Me: “That’s the price with tax.”

Customer: “I don’t pay tax.”

Me: “In here, I’m afraid you do.”

Customer: “I’m a sovereign citizen, and I don’t recognize your taxation system.”

Me: “As a sovereign citizen, you’re choosing to exist outside the system that sets the prices, collects the taxes, and keeps the lights on in this building. Unfortunately, that also places you outside the part where we hand over the food. Have a nice day in whatever nation you’re in.”

I call for the next customer, and Mr. Sovereign stands there blinking for a moment before begrudgingly reaching into his pocket for the extra few cents.

Selfie-Incriminating Evidence

, , | Right | May 16, 2026

I was a repair technician for a cell phone company.

Customer: “My phone has stopped charging!”

Me: “Have you got it wet or left it in the sun?”

Customer: “I’ve never even had it near the water!”

I take it apart, and bingo: corrosion all over. I showed the customer:

Me: “Are you sure you’ve never had it near water?”

Customer: “Never!”

I do what I can, put it back together, power it back on, and am presented with the screen wallpaper, a selfie she took from inside the pool.

Mmm, Fresh Cowpig Straight From Chornobyl Farms, Part 2

, , | Right | May 16, 2026

This story reminded me of my own experience as a waitress, and it was so similar it’s uncanny.

A customer is unsatisfied with how “un-crispy” her bacon is.

Customer: “This bacon is so raw, I can still hear it mooing!”

Me: “I will be happy to get you a new… wait… mooing?”

Customer: “Yeah! You know! Moo! Like a cow!”

Customer’s Friend: “Moo is beef. What you’re eating is oink.”

Customer: “…”

Customer’s Friend: “That’s from a pig, [Customer’s Name].”

Customer: “Well, I grew up on a farm, and we got our bacon from cows.”

Customer’s Friend: “Where the f*** was that farm, Chornobyl?”

Related:

Mmm, Fresh Cowpig Straight From Chornobyl Farms

 


EDITOR’S NOTE: The spelling ‘Chornobyl’ has been used instead of ‘Chernobyl’. This is the Ukrainian spelling, which is now the preferred and more accurate term.

Check In Checkmate

, , , , | Right | May 15, 2026

I’m in line to check into a hotel. The guest in front of me has just been asked for their ID.

Guest: “What?! Why?”

Concierge: “It’s policy, sir. We need to see the ID to ensure it matches the booking.”

Guest: “I don’t want to! I’ve already said my name, and that matches the booking. That should be enough.”

Oh, goody. I have been traveling for twenty hours, and I just want my hotel room bed. This a**hole is getting in my way.

Concierge: “I can’t complete the check-in process without it, sir.”

Guest: “I have been to HUNDREDS of hotels, and I have NEVER had to show an ID!”

Me: *Shouting over.* “I have been to HUNDREDS of hotels, and I have NEVER NOT had to show an ID! The only places I know of that allow you to rent a room for the night and not take ID are… well… questionable by nature. If you’ve been to HUNDREDS of those…”

I shrug. The guest glares at me and then silently turns back to the concierge and produces a driver’s license. Within two minutes, he’s checked in, and it’s my turn. I already have my passport and printed booking reference ready.

Concierge: “Thank you.”

We get through the process quickly and then:

Concierge: “Thank you for choosing [Hotel]. Please enjoy your suite.”

Me: “Thanks—wait… suite? I booked a standard.”

Concierge: “…”

Me: “Oh… I see. Thank you! Thank you very much!”

I was going to sleep well that night, no matter what, but I slept even better after that!