(As everyone knows, when a man brings a sweatshirt to an outdoor event, it becomes the property of his girlfriend. My boyfriend and I have season tickets to a local college’s football games, and every evening game that’s chilly, he’ll tell me he brought his sweatshirt, and I’ll respond with, “Great, but what are you going to wear when it gets cold?” That is, until this:)

Boyfriend: *smugly* “I got smart this time.”

Me: “Oh, you did, huh? What do you mean?”

Boyfriend: “I brought two sweatshirts with me. So you can take one and I’ll still have one.”

Me: *laughing*

(Fast-forward a few hours, and we’re in the stadium, and it’s starting to get chilly. My boyfriend pulls out his sweatshirts from his backpack and I quickly snag both of them.)

Boyfriend: “Hey! What do you need two for?”

Me: “A lap blanket. Thank you!”

Boyfriend: *resigned sigh*

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(I’m at a baseball game with some friends, and on this occasion, I’m the designated driver. Before the first inning starts, I go to a concession stand to get a hot dog and a bottle of soda. Despite a man and his two kids making requests of the other vendor, the hot dog comes with no trouble. The soda, however…)

Me: “Excuse me, I asked for a bottle, not a fountain drink.”

Vendor #1: “The bottles aren’t cold.”

Me: “That’s fine. I’ll still take it.”

Vendor #1: “They’re not cold!”

Me: “And that’s fine. It’s liquid, it tastes better than the swill from the fountain, it’ll help break down any fat in this hot dog, and it’s non-alcoholic so I can drive myself and my friends home. Now, may I have a bottle of [Soda]?”

Vendor #1: “THEY’RE! NOT! COLD!”

Vendor #2: “[Vendor #1], that doesn’t bother him.” *hands me a bottle* “Sorry about that.”

Vendor #1: “That’ll be [total].”

(I pay, get my change, fish a dollar out of it, and go to tip like I always do.)

Me: “Oh, wait. You wouldn’t get my order. That was her. And she was busy with her own customers.”

(As soon as I finish, I put the single away, pull out a twenty, and hand it to [Vendor #2], instead.)

Vendor #2: “Thank you, sir! And God bless you!”

(I told my friends what happened before the game started. I went back to the stand three more times, but I still got [Vendor #2] two of those times, so she walked away with $40 in tips just from me while [Vendor #1] never saw a dime. My friends, however, decided to get all of their beer from that stand. While I don’t know what they tipped, I do know they followed my pattern. Based on how many times they went to get drinks, I can only imagine what she raked in from us. I also hope [Vendor #1] learned his lesson.)

(I am and have been a referee for two years. One thing I must watch for is if a goalie brings his/her water bottle to the goal with them in case they get thirsty during the game, and make sure the water bottle is behind the goal and out of the way. I am an assistant referee for this game and don’t notice the goalie has done this. The ball ends up hitting her water bottle. Of course, the team I am refereeing is U11 girls, so I don’t expect them to know this law, fully blaming myself for not telling her. During a water break, I politely tell the goalie to make sure she puts her water behind the goal so it doesn’t get hit by the ball.)

Me: “Hey, keeper, make sure you put your water behind he goal so it doesn’t get hit.”

(The goalie nods and does as I asked. A few minutes later, I notice what looks like her grandpa walk over to her and ask her something I couldn’t hear. She replies to him loud enough for me to make out.)

Goalie: “She told me to put it behind the goal so it doesn’t get hit.”

(The grandpa then mumbled something and walked to her water bottle, picked it up, and brought it over to the other side of the goal — opposite of me — and placed it so I couldn’t see it. I just sighed and knew I couldn’t do anything about it. The second half rolled around. The bottle got hit TWICE MORE. Please, listen to referees.)

(The large racing complex where I work has been completely rented out for an event with several thousand attendees. There are a number of different activities for attendees, and I am the sole person passing out ride tickets for the small racetrack I am at. You cannot get on track without a ticket listing your alphabetical group, since there are a limited number of vehicles available for each run, and we have a relatively small number of total rides possible compared to the number of attendees. With a non-stop line forming as soon as we open, people quickly have long wait times between getting a ticket and running their race. Because of this, many attendees try to wheedle their way into an earlier group – but this trio of 20-something guys was my favorite!)

Customer #1: “So, what’s the deal here?”

Me: “Well, I give you guys tickets, and when you hear the letter on the back of your ticket over the PA, you’ll head down to our grid to race. Our next available race is Group W.”

Customer #1: “What group are you on right now?”

Me: “I just called Group E down. The wait is over an hour.”

Customer #1: “Whoa! Is there any way we can go earlier?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. I have a single ticket available for Group T, but if you want to run together, you’ll have to wait until W.”

Customer #2: *flashes a friendly smile* “What if I did a dance? Would that get us in earlier?”

Me: *trying to maintain my composure, but some of my laughter is creeping into my voice* “I’m sorry, sir. Much as I would love to let you in earlier for dancing, I don’t have any earlier open spots.”

Customer #3: “He really is a good dancer!”

Customer #1: *laughing* “We’ll take three tickets for W, thanks.”

(After nonstop customers, and a number of shocked and upset reactions to the wait time, these guys gave me a funny moment I desperately needed!)

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(My husband and I are visiting America for the first time and are in Saint Louis. While at the top of the Gateway Arch, we see that a baseball game is starting in the nearby Busch Stadium so we make an impromptu decision to go to the game. Just as we approach the ticket desk, a couple intercepts us.)

Couple: “Are you going to buy tickets for the game?”

Me: “Uh, yeah.”

Couple: “We’re season ticket holders and we upgraded our tickets for tonight’s game. They let us keep our old tickets, so you can have ours for free.”

Me: *trying to decide how this scam works* “Oh, I dunno.”

Couple: “We’ll be honest with you; they’re not great seats, but it saves you buying tickets.”

Me: *still unsure and wishing I was psychic so I could read my husband’s mind*

Couple: *laughs* “I know you probably think we’re scamming you. Put it this way: if the tickets are valid, you can watch the game and hopefully have a good time. If the tickets are fake, they just won’t let you in but you haven’t spent any money so no loss. We just heard your accent and wanted to do something nice while you’re visiting us.”

Me: “Okay, let’s give it a shot. Are you sure you don’t want anything for the tickets?”

Couple: “Absolutely not. Enjoy!”

(With that, the couple gave us the tickets and disappeared before we could get their details. The tickets were valid and, to us, the seats were fantastic. We had a great view of all the action and really enjoyed the game. It’s one of my favourite stories to tell from our trip and it really made our day.)