For high school, my parents sent me to a “prestigious” New England boys’ boarding prep school, henceforth known as “PNEBBPS”. Years of therapy later, I am ready to share some of the experiences therein.

PNEBBPS had multiple rules; teachers were called “Masters” and had to be addressed as “Sir” at all times, coat and tie had to be worn for meals and classes, and the like. It also had strict prohibitions against smoking and alcohol use. Smoking got you suspension for the first occurrence and expulsion on the second, and drinking was an automatic expulsion. About once a month, the headmaster got up at lunch and announced a suspension or expulsion related to these rules.

At PNEBBPS, our big sport was lacrosse and no other team was close in stature or record. Going into my third year, the team was coming off an unbeaten season and our returning captain had set a league scoring record as a junior. Alas, in late fall he got caught drinking and things looked bad. But…

The lacrosse coach had started the sport at the school, was on the disciplinary committee, and was very influential. When the punishment for the culprit was announced, surprise surprise, it was for the winter term only, meaning he’d be back in time for lacrosse season. It was the only time a drinking violation got less than expulsion in my four years there. For the record, we had another excellent season with the captain breaking his own scoring record.

(My father is on the couch watching college football when I get home. Side note: to be completely fair, I don’t really get sports or sports culture, but our family has always rooted for this particular team.)

Father: “[Our Team] sucks.”

Me: “Oh? Why?”

Father: “They were forecast to win this game by seventeen points and they just won in overtime.”

Me: “So, you’re mad because they didn’t win how you wanted them to?”

(He did not understand how this was strange.)

(I am picking up a few items at the grocery store on the day of the final game of a championship series featuring a local sports team. The checker is trying to make small talk while ringing me up.)

Checker: “You watching the game tonight?”

Me: “Nope.”

(Surprised, the checker goes down the line asking whether other people are planning on watching it.)

Customer #1: “Nope.”

Customer #2: *shakes head*

Customer #1: “I don’t even have cable, so I can’t!”

Checker: *shocked* “What?!”

Customer #1: “I made her squeak. I think I win!”

Me: “Yeah, I cut the cord about four years ago, myself.”

Checker: “How do you even live like that?”

Customer #1 & Me: *simultaneously* “Amazon!”

(My family’s caravan park has been around for 20+ years. Among other amenities, a tennis court has been there since it opened. We’ve only owned it for two years and in that time we’ve had a lot of thefts, including tennis rackets for hire. A large family came in, but I mostly dealt with a child and her mother)

Child : I want to hire some tennis rackets please

Me: Sorry, we don’t have any at the moment

Child : (Leaves and comes back with her mother)

Mother: What’s this (Child) says about you not having any rackets for hire?!

Me: I am very sorry, but as I said to her we don’t have any at this time.

Mother: Why on earth don’t you have any rackets if you have a tennis court?

Me: Unfortunately the rackets we did have were stolen and we are unable to replace them at this point in time.

Mother: If you don’t have any rackets, why do you have a tennis court?

Me: I’m sorry? The tennis court has been there for over 20 years…

Mother: So why don’t you have any rackets for hire?

Me: They were unfortunately stolen.

(This went on for 10 minutes. The whole time she was saying we shouldn’t have a court without rackets and that we should close it down/get rid of it)

I recently joined a social group which runs an indoor football session each week. With it being a regular thing, the guys all know each other, while I am new to the group.

Towards the end of the hour, everyone is getting tired and sweaty, and this tends to make people stop paying attention. One guy attempts to showboat, so when I go in and tackle him, he doesn’t see me and ends up standing awkwardly on my foot and going down. Less Messi, more Suarez…

He starts wailing about how he has badly hurt his foot, and everyone stops and swarms him, asking him if he is okay. Meanwhile, I’m having flashbacks to seven years ago where I received a high ankle sprain from a similar incident.

I end up escorting him to the walk-in clinic across the road from the sports centre, along with his girlfriend. When we get there, I explain the situation to the receptionist, who puts his details into the system. Throughout all of this, he continues to wail about how he is in so much pain from his foot, to the point where he can’t concentrate enough to give information. It should be noted that the social group caters to people with conditions like ADHD for the other guy, and the autistic spectrum for all three of us. It should also be noted that of the three, I actually have technical medical knowledge, so can act as translator for “doctor speak” for the others.

After ninety minutes of waiting, as well as a physical examination and five x-rays, the doctor confirms two things: that there is nothing physically wrong with his foot — he just overextended and put unnecessary pressure on the outside of his foot when he stepped on me — and that this guy is a ”gigantic” hypochondriac, to mine and the girlfriend’s utter amusement. 

The doctor takes it in stride, saying that unfortunately, they don’t have medication to fix the latter, but a bit of ice and elevation will help with the former. Cue the chuckles all round the following week!