This happened when my parents went on their honeymoon in Spain. Back then, there were ID checks each time you transferred from one nation to another, and the one at the France-Spain border in particular had a queue going on for miles.

My father, who was driving, moved to the emergency lane, went past a line of 100+ cars, and merged back into the queue just before the Border Police shack.

Out of the shack came a French gendarme with the red and green traffic baton. He singled out my parents’ car and directed them to move onto the median strip. Once they were there, he put the baton under his armpit and walked back inside the shack while the other motorists jeered and cheered.

It was more than an hour before my parents were allowed to join the queue again.

I’m a Brit on a bus in France with my Bulgarian friend and my French friend. We’re going to a French convention and the French friend has kindly offered us her abode. Going by accent, there’s a very loud American couple making derogatory comments about the passengers and generally about France in English, clearly thinking we can’t understand them.

My Bulgarian speaks loudly to my French friend in English.

Bulgarian Friend: “I think it’s very interesting that my school in Bulgaria had me learn English. Do they do the same in France?”

My French friend replies just as loudly, also in English.

French Friend: “Oh, yes. In fact, in Paris, you’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t understand English at least a little. Hey, [My Name], what about you?”

Me: “Being from England, it means it’s pretty much all I can speak. Although I can tell you where I live in French if you want?”

French Friend: “Please don’t butcher my beautiful language.”

Random German Man: “We also learnt English in Germany!”

Random American Lady At The Back: “I’m from Louisiana! So we have English and… a different French.”

The couple was strangely quiet for the rest of the journey.

My mother is on holiday in England and is walking through a famous zoo when an American tourist comes up to her. I guess she heard my mother’s Canadian accent and thought she might be able to help.

Tourist: “Hey, can you help me? Can’t nobody understand me.”

Mom: “Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tourist: “I’m looking for the kay-muls. I can’t find the kay-muls.”

Mom: “The what?”

Tourist: “Kay-muls. I can see ‘em on the map, but nobody can tell me how to get to ‘em.”

Mom: “Can you show me on the map?”

The tourist takes out her map and points to what she is looking for.

Mom: “Oh! Camels!”

Tourist: “Yeah, that’s what I said, kay-muls!”

In 2017, I visited the USA for the first time with my family. One day, we went to a museum that has a planetarium. It’s pretty amazing, but before the projection begins, people need to have their eyes used to the dark.

A member of the museum’s staff talked a bit in order to entertain everyone for a few minutes. I could understand only a few words; I was sixteen and his English sounded different from what I had been studying in school.

At some point, people started to raise their hands. Then, the man said something else and other people raised their hands. The man said a third thing and my father whispered to me in Italian, “Raise your hand.”

I did so without knowing why.

Later, my dad translated what the man had said.

The three questions were, one, “Raise your hand if you’ve already been in a planetarium before,” two, “Raise your hand if you’ve never been in a planetarium before,” and three, “Raise your hand if you don’t even understand what I’m saying.”

My family and I are visiting the USA for a family holiday. Before this trip, my sister and I have never been to North America before in our lives. We live in the UAE, which is located in the middle east. My family is biracial; my dad is German/Brazilian and my mum is Indian. I’m bisexual, and the rest of my family is straight.

We are in the streets of New York, our final destination. This trip has simultaneously been the best and worst we have ever been on. It’s about 12:00 pm and some drag queens avidly speaking in Spanish walk by us, and a nearby man turns to speak to my father.

Man: “Can you believe those f****** [gay slur] [Mexican slur]s? This is why we need the walls — to keep the immigrants out of here.”

Dad: *Smiling* “That’s exactly my thought; the indigenous people need to finally take a stance. I mean, after what your ancestors did to them, it’s only common courtesy for you to go back to Europe.”

Man: “How f****** dare you?! My family built this country! Take your [Mexican slur] wife and kids and get out of here.”

Mum: “I’m from India.”

Man: *Pissed* “Whatever. You’re probably both [gay slur]s.”

I finally speak up.

Me: “No, that’s me.”

Surprisingly, he did not want to talk to us any longer, but the drag queens, who had heard everything, came up to us after and thanked us for standing up to him. They even bought my sister and me a hotdog!