I am in an airport bathroom stall when a self-cleaning toilet seat begins to whir.

A woman speaks up from a stall with a delighted voice and a broad southern accent.

Woman: “D*******N, THIS IS SOME STAR TREK S***!”

There are a few outside tables spread out for social distancing. A customer wanders indoors.

Waiter: “Ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t have any indoor seating.”

Customer: “Oh, I know, but no one came by to give us menus, so I wanted to see if we’re supposed to order inside or something.”

Waiter: “I’m sorry about that; I’ll bring your menus right out. Which table are you at?”

Customer: “The one on the porch.”

Waiter: “The one… Can you point it out to me?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I can’t see it from here. On the porch, around to the left?”

Waiter: “Around to the left… Ma’am, that’s not part of [Restaurant]. I’m pretty sure that’s just someone’s house.”

Customer: “Oh, God! The waitress said we could sit anywhere, and I guess we just… we might have taken that too literally.”

Since marijuana has been legalized federally in Canada, provinces have been allowed to regulate it more or less as they will. In my province, they’ve gone basically the same way as alcohol, with private shops and government board-run shops, with the addition that you can order from the government-run website.

Friend: “Hey, I was going to ask you… Can you recommend a cannabis shop that’s good about social distancing and whatnot?”

Me: “I get mine online.”

Friend: “Right! We can get pot from The Man now, can’t we?”

My Internet service provider’s tech support line intersperses awful hold music with tips and comments, which it regularly interrupts mid-stream to update you with your place in the queue. One such tip, about increased call waiting times due to the health crisis, starts with “Unfortunately…”

Timing is everything. I just got told, “Unfortunately— You are next in the queue.”

I am the somewhat stupid customer here. It’s a Sunday morning and I’m browsing a baked goods stall for breakfast. I’m on this island unexpectedly because there were rough seas and our ship had to divert to a different port, so I’m still adjusting.

Me: “I’d like twelve of the beignets with cheese.”

Merchant: “The beignets. You want twelve for six Euros?”

Me: *Suddenly in Italian* “Yes, for six.”

Merchant: *In French* “Pardon?”

Me: *Laughing, speaking in French* “I’m sorry. I just arrived from Italy and still think in their language.”

Merchant: *Laughing* “I thought you were American.”

Me: “Oh, I am. I’m just very confused today.”