(My high school choir works concessions for home games and I usually take cash from the customers and hand back change. While I do get flirted with a bit, especially by the younger, drunk customers, this one just takes the cake. I take his order and hand back his change.)

Drunk Customer: “So, what are you doing after this?”

Me: “Going home.”

Drunk Customer: “Not going to tailgate some?”

Me: “No, especially since I’m not old enough.”

Drunk Customer: “Okay. Wait, how old is not old enough?”

(At this point, I drop the polite customer service voice I’d been using and speak as if to a small child.)

Me: “I’m. Not. Legal.”

Drunk Customer: “Oh. OH! Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

(Yeah, I noticed that.)

(My friend invites me to a sports day held by his work, mainly because I have a car so I can drive him up. As it is the middle of summer, I pack a small cooler with some drinks for us, and I throw in a package of “freezie pops,” as well. We meet up with some other friends who also work there, and we are sharing the freezie pops between us when a woman walks up, followed by two kids.)

Woman: “Where did you get those?” *pointing at the freezie pops*

Me: “Oh, we actually brought them ourselves, since we figured it would be so hot. Do–”

Woman: *cutting me off* “We’ll take four.”

Me: *pausing, then plastering on a big smile* “Sorry, we only brought enough for us.”

(At that, the woman makes to lunge at the cooler, but I block her path with my body.)

Me: “Ex-cuse you!”

(She huffs, then stomps away as her kids begin whining about not getting freezie pops.)

Me: *opening up the cooler to reveal the dozen or so freezie pops we have left* “So, anyone want seconds?”

(Seriously, I’d been about to offer that woman some, but not with that kind of attitude. It’d be one thing if she asked nicely, but with just that demand, there was no way I was giving her squat.)

(I am a twenty-year-old woman and I recently went to a professional baseball game and bought a jersey there. I like jerseys that are loose and somewhat baggy, so the one I bought is a little long on me. During the middle of the game I go to get something to drink and I am waiting at the top of the stands to be let back down to my seat. A woman in her 60s or 70s has been glaring at me the entire time I’ve been standing there, but I don’t think anything of it. When a twelve-year-old boy walks up to wait, she storms off and returns with a security guard.)

Woman: *points at me* “There she is, Officer! I want her arrested right now!”

(Everyone is staring at me, and the security guard looks very confused.)

Security Guard: “Her? Um, for what, exactly?”

Woman: “For public indecency! Look at her! She isn’t wearing any pants! And with a child right next to her!”

Boy: “Child?! I’m almost 13!”

Me: “Um, excuse me, but I have pants on; I’m wearing shorts. My jersey is long, so it covers them up. See?” *lifts my jersey up to show her that I AM wearing shorts*

Woman: “Oh, um…”

Security Guard: *turns to the woman* “Ma’am, I think you’d better return to your seat.”

(I told my boyfriend what happened when I got back to my seat. He couldn’t stop laughing at the idea of someone thinking I would walk around a public stadium full of thousands of people with no pants on!)

(I am a security contractor for a local university and work at a lot of the sporting events for said university. This conversation happens during the first game of a series between the local university and their rival, who happens to have the word “Texas” in their name. I am checking tickets for this game. A patron goes through security checkpoint, and walks up to me without a ticket visible.)

Me: “Welcome to [University], sir. May I please have your ticket?”

Patron: “I don’t have one.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in without a ticket.”

Patron: “I shouldn’t have to have a ticket.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but there is no entry without a ticket, no exceptions.”

Patron: “Well, where am I supposed to get one if they aren’t selling them at the ticket office?”

Me: “The event has been sold out for weeks; if you didn’t by a ticket beforehand, there is no way to get one now.”

Patron: “That’s bulls***. I went to Texas, my dad went to Texas, and my kids all went to Texas. I should be allowed in.”

(I’ve heard that argument at almost every game this season and can’t take it anymore.)

Me: “That old man who came in ahead of you was Mr. [Full Name], the man this field is named after. Now, I love him to death, but he had to have a ticket to come in. So, please explain to me what makes you so special that you should be allowed into a sold-out stadium for free, when even he had to pay.”

Patron: *walks off angry and doesn’t come back*

(Just to clarify, the man the field was named after gets complimentary season tickets, and even when he forgets, we wave him in because he is super nice and has trouble getting around due to his age. The patron didn’t know that, though.)

(My boyfriend and I are traveling in Thailand, and we decide to try and see a muay-thai match, so we go to a nearby stadium. At the ticket window, we check the prices, and decide on third-class for $20 instead of first for $60.)

Me: *tapping the seat chart, since my Thai isn’t great* “Third, please.”

(The ticket-seller glances at us, clearly the only white people in line, and also taps the chart.)

Ticket-Seller: “First.”

Me: “No, third.”

Ticket-Seller: “Farang—” *white people* “—always sit in first.”

Me: “We want tickets for third-class, please.”

Ticket-Seller: “But there will be Thai people there!”

Me: “I hope so; we’re in Thailand!”

(Third-class seats turned out to be perfectly comfortable, and everyone was too busy cheering the athletes on to notice or care about the white couple cheering, too. As an added bonus, my boyfriend checked out the first-class area in his way back from the bathroom, and it turned out they were selling the same beer for twice the price!)