The Trader Joe’s checkout line before the blizzard of the century
The world-famous Very Very Vertigo Viking Super Pirate Ship amusement park ride filled to capacity with two rival post-championship Little League Teams who just participated in All You Can Eat Hot Dog Night
A packed elevator stuck on the 15th floor at the Mall Kiosk Sellers Association of America’s official annual convention hotel
That nebulous hallway from my recurring dream where I can’t seem to get back home and everyone is laughing at me because my shoes are missing and also there might be a bomb or something?
A gender reveal party that lasts five days and culminates in a mandatory marathon with a pink or blue finish-line ribbon made of used pacifiers
The hallway dream again but naked and definitely not supposed to be
A sweaty elementary school gym for the beginner recorder ensemble’s debut performance of “Five Hundred Eighty-Seven Variations of Hot Cross Buns, Fortissimmo.”
My dentist’s chair during #NoNovocainNovember, a new social media charity challenge he neglected to tell me he was participating in until he started sawing into the first cavity
A life-size rat maze with delicious desserts placed just out of reach under hidden wires. The electric shocks leave me stumbling and briefly deterred but still determined to sink my teeth into that tasty treat. I repeat this sequence eight times before realizing, dazed with a few hundred volts of electric current coursing through my veins, that this may be an unsubtle metaphor for dating.
The same rat maze, now filled with a thousand starving rats angry that they did not receive any of their promised food rewards. They decide that I am now their food reward instead. After a violent struggle, I discover a hidden door that unfortunately only leads to the driver’s license renewal processing line at the DMV. The attendant hands me a queue ticket that simply reads ∞. I still cannot find my shoes.
At home, swiping on Tinder