(My boyfriend and I are at my 21st birthday party. A fair way into it, when most people are blind drunk, a guy stumbles and almost pushes me over. My boyfriend sees this coming and steps in the way, protecting me. After this, he turns to face me, smug.)

Boyfriend: “See that? See what I did there?”

Me: “My hero!”

Boyfriend: “I know. It was pretty gallant of me.”

(By the end of the night, the story was that a guy had come at me with a knife and my boyfriend had ridden in on a dinosaur, tackled the guy to the ground and had been presented with a glass chalice by the host of the party as a prize.)

(When I arrive to start preparing for the dinner shift, I see that we have a reservation for a birthday party with 13 guests, and that they’re due to arrive about 30 minutes after we open. I organize everything essential quickly and then begin to move tables together so they’ll have enough places to seat everyone at one long table.)

Manager: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Setting up a table for the reservation of 13.”

Manager: “You don’t need to do that now.”

Me: “Uh… they’re coming in just half an hour. I should really have it ready before they arrive.”

Manager: “You can just do it when they get here.”

Me: “They shouldn’t have to stand around and wait for me to do something that I could have done before they arrived, and by the time they get here, we might have other customers as well. I’d rather set up the table now and avoid the stress.”

Manager: “There’s no stress in that situation. You’d have to do it. No stress for me!”

Me: “But we’d be forcing a party of 13 to stand in the entryway while the tables get set up.”

(My manager gives an exasperated sigh at this point but gives in. Though I was planning to move the tables myself, he ends up helping push three four-seaters together.)

Manager: “There, done.”

Me: “That’s only 12 seats. We’ll need to put one more of the two-seat tables on the end here.”

Manager: “All 13 probably won’t show up. They’ll just end up having a big empty table.”

Me: “Isn’t it better to just assume they will and not make fools of ourselves?”

Manager: “I don’t want to move them right now.”

Me: “You don’t have to. It’s just one table; I’ll do it.”

Manager: “You don’t need to.”

Me: “I’m going to anyway.”

(I move the last table over and then set up menus, glasses, napkins, and cutlery for 13. While I’m doing this, two other small tables arrive, so I am right that we’d have other customers by the time the party of 13 arrived.)

Manager: “You’re just going to look silly when all 13 of them don’t show up.”

(Two minutes later, the birthday party arrived. All 13 came at once!)

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(My younger cousin is a toddler. My aunt tells people ‘He’s just tired’ whenever he gets cranky. This is something he’s caught onto, but doesn’t fully understand. We are at a family party, and he begins acting up.)

Aunt: *to my cousin* “What’s wrong?”

Cousin: “I’m tired!”

Aunt: “Do you want to take a nap?”

Cousin: “No, I’m tired!” *goes on a rampage*

(There is only one boy cousin in a family of all girls. The boy is the youngest and always tries to fit himself into the conversation, or answer questions even if he doesn’t know what we’re talking about. We hear an advertisement for viagra on the radio.)
 
Me: “Uncle, does viagra work?”
 
Uncle: “I don’t know. I don’t use it.”
 
Me: *to another aunt* “Auntie, does viagra really work?”
 
Boy cousin: “Yeah, it does.”
 
(I look at him confused as he’s only ten years old, and from his tone of voice I know he’s got no idea what I’m talking about.)
 
Me: “How do you know?”
 
Boy cousin: “Because I use it all the time.”
 
(We still make jokes about it and make sure to tell all his girlfriends he’s been taking viagra since he was ten.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am at a birthday house party, and a few of us are talking in the kitchen when one of the guys suddenly goes stiff.)

Guy: *gurgling* “Oh, God!”

(The guy collapses in an epileptic seizure. I manage to catch him before his head hits the floor, but he can’t breathe and I only have two hands. As if I’d summoned him through willpower alone, a blonde guy comes out of nowhere and opens the guy’s mouth and his airway. The guy inhales and starts to convulse less. A few minutes later he regains consciousness, and we manage to get him to his room where he can lay down and have some water and his medication. The birthday girl comes up with a question.)

Birthday girl: “Does he want any cake? If he’s sick, he doesn’t have to wait in line!”

(After I face-palm, I get a ride home. I didn’t even find out the blonde guy’s name until I saw him randomly at a restaurant a few weeks later. The blonde and I have now been dating for almost two years!)