(When I was around four or five, my parents, my grandparents, and I are on a small trip through Canada. When we decide to stop at a steakhouse restaurant for lunch, my grandmother quietly complains about everyone smoking inside, despite the fact that there are “NO SMOKING” signs everywhere. This was nearly 20 years ago, so I assume the smoking laws — even in Canada — were not as strict. She doesn’t kick up a fuss or bother anyone about it, but she does continue muttering about it while she looks at the menu. Being a rule follower myself — and having smokers for parents who are very strict about smoking areas — this bothers me, as well. I ask to be excused from the table. My family allows it, thinking that I am just going to go play at the arcade. Nope. I approach one of the tables where an older couple is smoking, and I point at the “NO SMOKING” sign hanging on the wall. Mind you, we are placed pretty much in the middle of the restaurant. A little American girl in a white, frilly dress approaching a table of strangers is very noticeable.)

Me: *in a loud voice* “Excuse me, but isn’t that a ‘No Smoking’ sign on the wall?”

(Conversations go silent. The man frowns while the woman awkwardly laughs and says:)

Woman: “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Me: “Then why are you smoking?”

(The couple looked at me, then at each other, and then doused their cigarettes on a plate they were using as an ashtray. The rest of the patrons followed suit, and I happily thanked the couple before going back to my table. My grandmother was super proud and my grandpa snickered. My parents, on the other hand, decided that we needed to eat quickly and leave because it was hunting season.)

(My friend and I are waiting for a train, chatting with each other, when this heavily drunk man comes up and tries to talk with us. He absolutely reeks of alcohol, to the point where I feel nauseous, and he makes sounds several times as if he is about to throw up while he is leaning over us. We manage to scoot out of our seats and move down the platform, leaving him to flop down on the bench we just vacated. We get to another bench further down the track, settle down, and start chatting again, when there is a loud humph from the lady sitting on a bench behind us.)

Lady: *after we turn to look at her* “How rude are you, running away from that poor man? He obviously just wanted someone to talk to.”

Me: “Then why don’t you go talk to him?”

(She gaped like a fish for a few seconds as my friend and I just stared at her, before gathering her things, getting up, and walking off… in the opposite direction from where the man was.)

(I recently overheard this argument.)

Man: “…it’s dangerous!”

Woman: “Says the man who plays with matches.”

Man: “I don’t play with matches; I burn random junk to see what happens! It’s totally different!”

(I’ve just finished with my shopping, and I come out to my van to find a lady standing next to the car in front of mine, looking at the bumpers. The other car was there before I got there, and I left around a foot of space between that car and mine when I parked. When I start loading my groceries into my car, the woman comes stomping between our cars.)

Woman: “You parked too close!”

Me: *thinking that a foot of distance really isn’t “too close”* “I’m sorry?”

Woman: “You could have scratched my car!”

Me: “Glad that I didn’t, then.”

(I’ve finished putting the last of my bags in the car, so I shut it, and I turn and start pushing my cart towards the cart return area. The woman follows.)

Woman: “You need to leave more space! You could have hit my car!”

(I was not even bothering to respond at this point. I put the cart away, walked around her to get back to my car, and got in, while she kept complaining about me being “too close.” She actually rapped on the glass of my car after I got in, but I just started my car and pulled out, taking some care to avoid running over her toes, before driving off. Looking in the mirror, I saw her pouting with her arms folded in front of my now-empty space. Sorry that I’m not willing to play along with your delusions, miss.)

(Our college has a small gym and locker room with three shower stalls with curtains for privacy. In fact, the locker room has a lot of little options and ways to change privately so you don’t have to walk around naked if you don’t want to. I’m more introverted and modest, and I greatly appreciate the privacy while my friend who, although she doesn’t walk around in her birthday suit every day, is much more comfortable with her body and is very extroverted and talkative. She’s in the middle stall with me humming quietly to myself to the right of her, and a frustrated sounding woman to the left of her, indicated with some grunts and sighs. Suddenly, the woman to the left of her stops her shower, wraps herself in a towel, and marches over to my friend’s stall, yanking the curtain.)

Friend: “Hey!”

Woman: “Would you stop the—” *pause* “Whoops, sorry. Wrong one.”

(I freeze and realize that the woman was probably upset with my humming and had thought my friend was doing it. I already stopped when I heard the commotion, but she apparently still wants to give me a piece of my mind because I hear her squeaking footsteps coming towards me! The woman is just about to reach my stall before my friend manages to slide out of her shower and stop her, blocking the woman’s way by spreading her arms and legs out like a barrier.)

Friend: “NO!”

Woman: *recoiling and almost shrieking* “Gaaah! Put on a towel!”

Friend: “Well, hey! You were the one who wanted to see ’em without permission! I’m not letting you see my friend without theirs!”

Woman: “Ew, ew, EW! EwewewewEWWWW!!”

(I hear the woman squeak away and chuckles from other women who are standing in line for the shower. I poke my head out, seeing my friend still standing in the way of my stall, dripping wet and completely nude.)

Me: “I, um… thank you. I didn’t know how fast I could’ve grabbed my towel without slipping.”

Friend: *still standing there* “No problem.”

Me: “She freaked out more than I thought, though. Why was she so grossed out?”

Friend: “That… was an accident. When I slid in front of her, she had been reaching out to grab your curtain away, and well… she kiiiind of grabbed my boob, instead.”

Me: “…”

Friend: “Just a light slap, on the left one. A gentle cup. Definitely wasn’t intentional on my end and completely doubt it was intentional on hers, but it happened. She kind of scratched it when she pulled away, but it doesn’t hurt—“

Me: “[Friend]?”

Friend: “Yeah?”

Me: “Your shower’s still on.”

Friend: “OH, CRAP!”

(We finished up quickly and laughed about the experience afterward. Thankfully, there weren’t that many other people in the line that we took shower time away from, and they all forgave us anyway. We occasionally see that one woman, but she never makes eye contact with us now. I don’t hum to myself anymore, though, just to prevent the situation from ever happening again!)