I’m on board a cruise ship, at the guest services desk. There’s a bit of a line as it’s the first day, and a lot of cruise virgins have questions.

Passenger: *Walking up to the counter, showing me a screen on a phone.* “I just found out there’s a Michelin-star restaurant in [City]!”

This confuses me for a moment, since that city isn’t one of the stops we’re making along the Mexican coast.

Me: “Are you asking if you’ll have time to get there from [Other City That Is One Of Our Stops]?”

Passenger: “No! I’m asking that we can make a stop there instead.”

Me: “Uh, I’m sorry, ma’am, but the itinerary is fixed.”

Passenger: “But it’s on the way!”

Me: “It’s not that easy. There are port moorings to schedule and fees to pay, not to mention that there are several thousand passengers who have already agreed to the current itinerary.”

Passenger: “But… it’s on the way!”

The other passengers in line started laughing and throwing out requests to highlight the ridiculousness of hers:

Other Passenger #1: “Sure, just let him grab the steering wheel of this 1,000-foot-long hotel.”

Other Passenger #2: “Right after we swing by Hogwarts. Should be on the way.”

Other Passenger #3: “Oh, this is a rideshare? I thought it was a cruise. How do I add another stop to pick up my friend?”

The laughing and jeering seemed to make the point clearer than my customer service could, and she left upset. We have four fine-dining restaurants on board, but some passengers are committed to just not enjoying themselves…

My roommate’s mother is visiting for the first time. She meets my girlfriend.

Roommate’s Mother: “So, [Girlfriend], do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Girlfriend: “Yes, I have a younger sister here in town and an older brother who lives in Colombia.”

Roommate: “Get out! I never knew you had a brother.”

There’s a pause.

Me: “I never knew you had a brother!”

We later broke up. Lack of communication was a factor.

I just got back from a trip to Cuba. I have a friend whose mother lives there, and she asked me to deliver a care package. I call her when I return.

Me: “I received your package. Your mother gave me a package to give to you. You can come get it tomorrow.”

Friend: “Can’t I get it tonight?”

I’m headed out, and my friend is notoriously late.

Me: “I’m going to the movies with some friends, but if you come over right now, I’ll wait for you.”

Sure enough, she arrives almost immediately.

Me: “This is from your mother… wait, are you not wearing pants?”

Friend: “You said you were leaving; I didn’t want to waste time getting dressed.”

She was wearing a long shirt, but I wasn’t in THAT much of a hurry.

When I was in high school, our marching band was invited to perform at a college football bowl game and parade before New Year’s. In addition to the parade, we were also involved in the bowl game’s pregame and halftime shows, so we had to be in town early so we could practice with the other bands who were performing at the game.

We were in town for close to a week. The band director and chaperones were frankly not sure what to do with approximately sixty fourteen- to eighteen-year-olds during our free time.

Then, someone had the bright idea of taking us over the Texas border into Mexico. (There were very few border restrictions back in the 1970s.) So, we took the bus to a dog track. Most if not all of us had some spending money for the trip, and many of us placed wagers on the dogs. I had $10 on me, and a $2 bet per race netted me at the end of the day about $20.

I don’t know if it was legal in Mexico for us to bet during that time. But for some reason, it was suggested that we not tell our parents about this “field trip”.

I am a tour guide in Central America. I’ve taken a small group of American women travelling together on a week-long itinerary to a restaurant that specializes in local cuisine that is hard to find in most places in the USA. They’re all enjoying the meal, except one.

Me: “[Tourist], are you okay? Do you not like the food?”

Tourist: “I’m fine, thanks.”

I notice that she has started to munch on a protein bar.

Me: “Are you not feeling well?”

Tourist: *Sternly* “I’m fine, thanks!“

I leave it for now, and we continue our tour. I notice the entire day that she eats only from a small duffel bag of protein bars. I am now worried that we’ve neglected to take account of any dietary requirements, and I bring this up with her.

Tourist: “No, it’s just I don’t trust any of this local food!”

Me: “I assure you that we are only going to highly-regarded and well-maintained restaurants. They’re perfectly safe for—”

Tourist: “It’s all Mexican food!”

Me: “Well, yes, we’re in Mexico. But we’ve also been to a wide range of eateries, not just Mexican, such as—”

Tourist: “Yes, but they’re all in Mexico! Look, I’ll be fine! Just do the tour!”

By day four, she was complaining of stomach cramps, and her farts were so bad that I thought they would strip the paint off the interior of the bus. I had to help her find a McDonald’s or something so that she would eat actual food.

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