(I am half Japanese and half Irish, but don’t look very Japanese; in fact, most people don’t think I’m Asian. I’m talking with a group of friends during lunch period.)

Friend #1: “The other day [Asian Classmate] was super upset ’cause she got an A-. I felt kinda bad for her, but like, that’s a lot of pressure on her, for her to get upset at an A-.”

Friend #2: “Ha, f****** Asians. They’re such f****** try-hards, right? They’re everywhere, too. Like, omigod, another f****** Ching Chong!”

(Friend #2 proceeds to stretch out their eyes to look “Asian” and smiles like a madman, nodding like we’d all agree with them.)

Me: “You’re kidding.”

Friend #3: “I really hope you’re kidding.”

Friend #2: “No, Asians are the f****** worst.”

Me: “I’m Asian.”

Other Friends: *at the same time as me* “[My Name] is Asian.”

Friend #2: “Ew! Get away from me, demon slit eye!”

Me: “No, you get away from me. Find someone who thinks like you so when you bump heads, your thick skulls crack. None of us want to be associated with someone who can go from being a friend to hating someone just because of their race.”

(Friend #2 did end up leaving after that, sticking their tongue out and making “Asian” eyes. I hardly ever talk to them anymore, and I definitely don’t consider them a friend.)

(Our band teacher periodically checks our band’s instruments to make sure everything is in shape and to make repairs if it isn’t. Sometimes, he points out a certain in instrument and either compliments or calls out people, depending on how well that person takes care of their stuff. Our tuba section can be a bit rowdy sometimes.)

Teacher: “See, trombones? Be like [My Name]. He always keeps his things in gear. Besides the really small dents, which you can’t really blame since his instrument is older than me, it’s in perfect condition.”

Me: *takes back instrument*

Teacher: “On the other hand, tubas. How the h*** did you manage to stuff sweet and sour sauce far enough inside so that every time you blow, it sounds like a really wet sponge being thrown at a wall?”

It is Friday afternoon and I have just gotten off school. My dad and I are on our way to pick up my mom from work before we go home. My dad decides to stop at the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant to buy me a strawberry and banana smoothie, since it is a hot day.

I am very tired as this week I was catching up on sleep from an AP exam I had the past Friday, I had an AP, baseball games, and started my new job.

The line at the drive-thru is really long and it is the type of drive-thru where it starts as two lanes then merges into one. My dad orders and we start to try to merge when this lady from the second lane pulls up and cuts in front of us. My dad and I are both upset as we are running late but we don’t do anything.

We get to pay when the cashier tells us that the lady who cut us off felt bad as she was in a hurry so she bought my smoothie. We decided to continue the chain and bought the order for the person behind us.

Ma’am, if you are out there, reading this, you not only restored my faith in humanity but you gave me a great ending to an exhausting week.

(My son is starting first grade at a parent participation school. He has a wheat allergy, so I buy expensive gluten-free flour and dust off the bread machine. After school, a parent comes up to me.)

Volunteer: “Hi, I was working lunch duty today. Your son’s sandwich was covered with mold, so I threw it away.”

Me: “What? That can’t be.”

Volunteer: “It was covered with white powdery mold. I didn’t want him to get sick… You’re welcome…”

(After getting home, I realized the bread maker hadn’t mixed in all the flour, and there were splotches of unmixed flour on the crust. I’m not sure what I felt worse about: that a well-intentioned volunteer had thrown away an hour’s work and a $7 peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or that she thought I would send my son to school with a moldy sandwich.)

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I’ve recently joined a niche community that collects ABJDS (Asian ball-jointed dolls) and have gotten my very first doll as a wedding gift from my husband. Excited, I decide to arrange something called a “Doll Meet” where local people in the community get together, talk shop, trade, and just generally have a fun time together, playing and dressing up our dolls. I put out an open invite and get a few responses from people I’ve met previously who are happy to come over, including one friend who, while not in the hobby, is always happy to meet new people. I’ve known her for years and we constantly mess with each other.

Most everyone has arrived, except for my long time friend and, when the doorbell rings, I assume it’s her. I open the door, shout, “Go away!”, and slam the door shut, as I often do with her.

Only, as the door’s falling shut, I realize it’s not my friend, but a girl I hadn’t yet met who’d asked to join the party.

Horrified, I yank the door open, apologizing profusely. She’s confused, but luckily has a good sense of humor and was able to laugh it off and we’ve been friends ever since.

My friend who likes to mess with me thought it was hysterical.

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