It’s A Flint Trap

, , , , | Friendly | August 8, 2018

(As part of a family vacation, I get my dad a ticket to a program where he gets to fire a flintlock musket. He arrives at the site, fills out the paperwork, and chats with the other two gentlemen who are there for the program. Soon the instructor arrives.)

Instructor: “So, three today? Great. Before we go over safety, I just want to remind you that flintlock muskets are not very accurate. You’ll be aiming for a paper target, but even hitting the cardboard around the target is pretty good with these guns! So, let’s review range safety…”

(Safety reviewed, guns loaded, and all three shooters take their shots… and hit their targets. Again, and again, and again. The instructor is astounded. The final count, out of 12 shots, is 10 hits on the paper target for one man, 12 for the other, and 11 for my dad.)

Instructor: “Wow. Just wow. This never happens.”

Man #2: “Did I mention I was a Marine?”

Man #1: “I went to Vietnam.”

Dad: “I haven’t served, and I thank you both for it, but I do shoot at my local range twice a month.”

Instructor: “Oh, that explains everything! You’re all ringers!”

(They had a laugh and parted on good terms, and Dad has been showing off his perforated target to all his friends ever since!)

Has A Hand In The Formation Of The Alliance

, , , , | Romantic | July 25, 2018

(My boyfriend and I are walking back to our hotel room rather late at night after a couple of very busy days. He falls asleep on my shoulder on the bus ride back to the hotel. I am not convinced that he’s entirely awake when we get off of the bus and begin walking.)

Boyfriend: “Babeeeee.”

Me: “What?”

Boyfriend: “Hold my hannnnnnd.”

Me: “Okay.” *takes his hand*

Boyfriend: *whispers* “The alliance will be greatly pleased.”

(He didn’t remember this in the morning.)

It Rums In The Family

, , , , | Related | June 21, 2018

(I am about nine and our family is on vacation in the Caribbean. I have spent most of the day down at the beach, and with the heat and the salt water I am very thirsty. There is only one stand that sells soda, and it is down on the other end of the beach. My Mom and I start walking toward it. Along the way, we run into my grandparents walking the opposite way.)

Grandma: “Where are you two going?”

Mom: “[My Name] is really thirsty, so we’re going to get her a soda.”

Grandma: “Well, I have a coke here she can have. It’s diet, though.”

Me: “I don’t care.”

(I’m just eager to drink anything. My grandma hands me her cup and I take a huge drink, and a second later I start spitting it out on the ground.)

Grandma: “It’s just diet; it’s not that bad.”

(My mom takes the cup out of my hand and takes a small sip.)

Mom: “There’s rum in this.”

Grandma: “Oh! I forgot about that.”

My New Grand-Mama Mia!

, , , , , | Hopeless | April 1, 2018

(It is the late 90s, and I am 12 years old. I get to go on a ten-day trip to Italy with my family and five other families. It is planned through a travel agency, so we are already signed up to see and do certain things. The day arrives when we reach Venice by bus, and I am not feeling well at all. It turns out, I’ve gotten food poisoning from the rest stop we ate breakfast at this morning. I am the only one who ate a particular bad food item, and therefore am the only one who is sick. My parents are pretty upset, because getting on a gondola is out of the question for me, and it’s something we’ve all been looking forward to. I am already nauseated enough on dry land. They are discussing which one of them will stay with me while the rest of our group goes on the gondolas, or if they could possibly switch off at some point, when our tour guide comes over with an older Italian lady.)

Tour Guide: “Good news! You can both go on the gondola ride. My friend here will stay with your daughter.”

Mom: “Oh! Thank you, but we don’t want to impose. I can stay with [My Name].”

Tour Guide: “No, no, no! You must experience the gondola! [My Name] can stay here with [Lady]. She owns a restaurant near where we will dock later.”

(After talking it out for a few minutes, and after our tour guide assures them again she’s known the lady for a long time, my parents agree to meet me at the restaurant after the gondola ride. So, the tour guide walks the lady and I back to her little restaurant on the water. I am so sick to my stomach that I nearly throw up again before we reach it. The tour guide leaves, and the lady ushers me inside the restaurant. Inside, the lady says something in rapid Italian. I know only a few words, and am so nauseated all I can do is stare at her and try to not throw up on her shoes. The lady clucks her tongue at me and guides me to a little back room with an attached bathroom. She tells everyone we pass something about me in Italian. I assume she is informing everyone of my plight, but who knows. I also think random people keep calling me bebe, which I assume means “baby.” I’m sure I look pretty miserable. I spend the afternoon alternating between running to the bathroom and huddling on a tiny couch in that room. The lady checks on me every so often, bringing me some kind of broth and water to drink. By the time my parents come back with the tour guide, I feel better enough to make it to our hotel. They are very grateful to the lady for looking after me, and we even go to eat at her restaurant before we leave Venice, when I am able to eat again. Back home from our trip, a friend is asking me for details about everything we saw in Italy.)

Friend: “Oh! Did you go on one of those little boat things in Venice? Did the driver sing that song they always sing in the movies?”

Me: “Uh… No. My mom and dad got to go, but I was sick.”

Friend: “Aw, really? You didn’t get to go at all?”

Me: “No, but I became very well-acquainted with a Venetian bathroom. I also think I have an Italian grandma, now.”

(Thank you again, kind Italian lady, for watching a sick kid who couldn’t understand a word you were saying!)

A Different Kind Of Humanitarian Tour

, , , , , | Hopeless | March 18, 2018

(I’m a woman in my early 20s, and I decide to try traveling alone for the first time after finding a cheap flight to Massachusetts. I’ve always wanted to see Cape Cod, so my plan is to fly into Boston and then take a bus out to Provincetown. Right off the bat, the trip does not go well. Among other things, a woman on the plane tries to steal my clearly labelled backpack and has to be stopped by the flight attendant, and a man literally pushes me into the street to be the first one onto the bus. By the time I finally arrive in Provincetown, I’m exhausted and miserable and wondering if I made a mistake, but I came all this way, so I decide to at least get a drink before collapsing. While at the bar, I start chatting with a guy there with a bunch of his friends, and he mentions he works for a local whale-watching company.)

Guy: “If you’re only in town for a few days, you should definitely go. It’s probably the coolest thing to do in town.”

Me: “Yeah, it looked neat, but I’m not sure; the tickets were kind of pricey.”

Guy: “Oh, that’s no good! You can’t miss out on it just because of that! Go down to the pier tomorrow and tell them [Guy] sent you, and they’ll hook you up.”

(I thank him, and the conversation soon drifts in another direction. I’m not sure how serious the offer was, but I figure why not, so the next morning I head down to the pier and the ticket booth.)

Ticket Seller: “Hi, can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I’d like to get a ticket to the next whale-watching trip, please. [Guy] sent me down here; I was talking to him last night and he said it was absolutely not to be missed.”

Ticket Seller: “Oh, you’re a friend of [Guy]’s?”

Me: “Kind of? I met him in a bar last night.”

Ticket Seller: “Totally counts! He wouldn’t have sent you here if he didn’t like you. Which bar was it?”

(I tell him, and immediately get the impression that I’ve given him the best gossip of the month.)

Ticket Seller: “Oooh, [Guy] was at [Bar]? He hasn’t been back there since the breakup! Wait ‘til tell [Friend]!”

(He hands me a ticket and pulls out his cell phone.)

Me: “Wait, how much do I owe you?”

Ticket Seller: “On the house, m’dear. You’re a friend of [Guy]’s, and you just brought me the best gossip I’ve heard all day; that’s well worth a tour. Just make sure to tip the crew.”

(The tour was completely amazing, and I did indeed make sure to tip the crew well. It was like the conversation in the bar flipped a switch, and for the rest of the trip, everyone around me was so nice, I started to wonder if it was a town-wide prank or if I’d accidentally landed in a Disney movie or something. The locals cheerfully directed me to the best beaches and restaurants, usually with the offer of a ride from a friend who was heading that way. Complete strangers checked to make sure I was enjoying myself, pulled me out onto the dance floor, invited me to join their group heading to a club or karaoke, or insisted on walking me back to my hotel if I turned them down. If I stopped at a bakery or chocolate shop, half the time, there was an extra cookie or chocolate thrown in with whatever I’d ordered. And when I was disappointed that I’d waited too long to go for a walk along the point and night was falling, a quite lovely elderly couple lent me a flashlight and invited me to dinner when I came to return it. Anytime I asked, or expressed amazement at just how genuinely nice everyone was, the answer was always the same: “Well, it’s almost the end of tourist season, we might as well. And besides, we like people here!” Despite my initial misgivings, it was an amazing trip, made so by a bunch of seriously amazing people, and I can’t wait to go back!)

Page 1/1412345...Last
Next »