Review of the guy who works at Dunkin Donuts in the Miami airport

Ordinarily, I find that the people who work at Dunkin Donuts are consistently awesome. They're nice, they're efficient, and they don't get mad when you drunkenly run into the 24-hour Dunkin Donuts in West Rogers Park screaming about how you are going to pee right now, and even though the guy tries to warn you about the floor you're too drunk to balance and so you slip right onto your butt, and then your drunk boyfriend runs over to try and save you and he also slips and falls, and then you both flail around on the floor for a few minutes until finally you manage to drag yourself into the bathroom on your hands and knees only to realize that you're in the men's bathroom, which you pretend you didn't notice until after you come out and slip on the floor again. And the Dunkin Donuts guy didn't even get mad that we caused a ruckus, probably because it was 2 AM and the only other people there were these old hairy men that I think live in Dunkin Donuts because they are literally always there.

Anyways.

A few weeks ago, I went with my family to Florida to visit my grandparents. On Monday morning we flew home, and I had the opportunity to wander around the Miami airport looking for food. I was cranky and tired, and I still hadn't showered from our deep-sea-fishing excursion the day before, so I felt even worse than I would have felt if I'd been clean.

So I find the Dunkin Donuts, and I check the display and see that they have Boston Cream donuts which are my favorite, and so I get in line to buy a donut. While I'm in line, an employee goes to a counter that was previously unoccupied and announces, "Anyone who is not getting a drink can come over here."

Well this is perfect, right? I'm not getting a drink. So I step out of line and walk over and say, "Excuse me, did you say that I could come here if I just wanted to get a donut?" I mean, I was super polite about it. And I was nervous, because nobody else had moved out of line and maybe I had broken some kind of Dunkin Donuts social etiquette or something and now everyone hated me and my salty sea-hair.

You'd think the guy would either say, "Yes, how can I help you?" or, if I heard incorrectly, say, "This line is actually for people who are getting muffins," or something helpful and polite like that. I mean, it's not like I did anything rude, I just asked. And I didn't ask rudely either!

But you know what the guy says?

"No, that is not what I said."

And that's it! And then he glares at me. Like I was so inconsiderate to not have been paying attention to his one stupid sentence. And I was paying attention, he just wasn't clear. And how did he know that I didn't have hearing problems or something? What if I was partially deaf, and he was all offended that I didn't hear him when I couldn't hear him, I was fucking deaf! That's what deaf means!

But I'm not deaf, and I just simply didn't hear, and so I said, "Oh, sorry!" in a nice voice and scooted back to my place in line. And I figured I just didn't hear correctly or whatever.

And then, two seconds later, the guy announces again, "I can check out anyone who isn't getting a drink over here."

Wait. What the hell is going on? I'm not getting a drink. I'm getting a donut, which is clearly not a drink. And I said that, I clearly said donut and I even pointed to the display full of donuts, so there was definitely no misunderstanding. So why am I not allowed to check out over there? Was he only checking out people who wanted sandwiches? Because he didn't say that he was only checking out people with sandwiches, he said anyone who wasn't getting a drink.

Let's break this down into mathematical terms:

Let A = donut.

Let B = plain coffee.

Let C = vanilla latte.

Let D = caramel mocha thingie.

Let E = blueberry muffin.

Let F = plain bagel with cream cheese.

The guy at Dunkin Donuts makes the following statement: Anyone who is NOT GETTING A DRINK can come check out here.

Let all drinks = X. Therefore, X = B; C; D. The guy at the counter has stated that he will take any item that does NOT = X.

Does A = X? No, it does not. So by conclusion, anyone who is getting a donut can check out at that counter.

Does the counter guy know basic logic? Does he not know that donuts are not drinks?

My theory is this: the guy said anything that is not a drink. I went over and asked if he said donuts could check out there. Technically, he didn't specifically say donuts, so he got annoyed that I was reading into his statement instead of listening to exactly what he said, and so he got all pissy about it.

Dude, you know not everyone is an auditory learner, right? You know that airports are filled with people who are tired and cranky and jet-lagged and not thinking straight? You know that some people might be genuinely asking you an innocent question, and you are totally being an asshole by taking advantage of their tired-ness to let out your obvious rage issues? Like seriously, you've never asked someone to repeat something that they just told you. People do that all the time, it's normal. Maybe you were mumbling. Did you ever consider that, asshole? People might not hear what you said not because they weren't listening, but because you are bad at talking. If you don't communicate properly, then you can't get all snippy when someone has difficulty understanding you. It's your fault that you said something stupid and/or wrong!

Dunkin Donuts guy, you get an F. Negative 3 stars, sir. You should quit and go get a job where you yell at innocent people, like a policeman or something. Actually, you'll probably just end up pulling some guy over and telling him to give you any piece of identification that is NOT his driver's license, and then when he pulls out his school ID you'll arrest him for having the bad luck to be pulled over by you. Wow I am so angry right now. I need chocolate.

Review of Hong Kong

The first time I found out that Hong Kong was more than just a city was during the London Olympics. I was obsessed. I followed every single sport on the official Olympics website, including things like judo and weight lifting and archery. Who even knew that archery was an official sport? I thought it was one of those things that they have at Renaissance fairs, like tunics and nasty food. But no, archery is a real thing, and apparently it is quite difficult.

On the Olympics website, they had little pictures of flags next to each of the athletes' names. This is how I know the difference between Norway's flag and Denmark's flag (Norway's is red with a blue cross, and Denmark is red with a white cross), and this is also how I know that Nepal didn't get the memo that all the other countries made their flags into rectangles.

No, Nepal. This is not what a rectangle looks like.

When I looked at the teams for all the different countries, I noticed something peculiar. Next to some athletes, there was a picture of a flag that looked like this:

This is Hong Kong's flag.

Next to other athletes, there was a flag that looked like this:

This is China's flag.

This was perplexing. I'd previously thought that Hong Kong was a city in China, but the Olympic Committee seemed to think that they are different countries.

Two weeks after the Olympics ended, I happened to actually go to Hong Kong. This was the perfect opportunity to solve the mystery of what exactly Hong Kong is.

This is what Hong Kong is: it is a country that is technically sort of in China, but it has its own flag, its own government, its own currency, its own internet, and its own Disneyland. Also, Hong-Kongians drive on the other side of the road. This is a result of British influence, which also explains why the concierge at the hotel was kind of snobby.

Us: Are there any breakfast restaurants that are open now?
Concierge guy: *snobby snorting sounds* Do you know what time it is?
Us: ...We just got in last night. (Hello? Does 'jet lag' not mean anything to you? You work at a hotel!)
Concierge guy: Well there aren't any restaurants open now that serve breakfast. *looks down at his papers*
Me: FEED ME NOOOOOOW BLARGHBLARABALAAAA YOU'LL NEVER BE AS COOL AS THE REAL BRITAIN HARBALLYBLAHHAHA

After one tempter tantrum and several minutes of begging for help, the guy finally pointed us in the vague direction of a Starbucks, where we found that Hong-Kongese Frappuccinos come in the flavors of 'Red' and 'Green' or something like that. Hong Kong, did you even pass kindergarten? Those are colors, not flavors. Clearly you and Nepal were not paying attention.

Besides the alternate-reality Starbucks, Hong Kong has some pretty good food. It's a very international pseudo-country-city-thing, so there's a wide variety of cuisines. Their sushi places are legit. Like the best damn sushi you will ever have in your life.

The shopping is also incredible. It's like every country in Europe and Asia decided that they needed to open up a flagship store in the same mall, and that mall just happens to be in Hong Kong. No where else in the world will you find such a huge number of things you can't afford to buy.

Speaking of money... there's something very wrong with the economy in this place. You know how much a manicure cost at the hotel? Not even a fancy super-spa-lotion-massage manicure, like a bare-bones polish change. Those things shouldn't cost more than $10. A regular manicure at a fancy-shmancy overpriced spa can cost around $20-25, and those are very rarely worth the extra cash. In Hong Kong, the manicures at the hotel cost SEVENTY DOLLARS. And that was the super-quick-polish-change manicure! Not even a "signature blahblah manicure" or whatever. When I first read that, I thought I'd gotten the exchange rate wrong, but alas. No manicures for me. Which was unfortunate, because my nails were really long and nasty, and all the fashionable people were probably judging me, and on the plane ride home I tried to adjust my shirt and accidentally stuck my nail right through the fabric and now there's a big hole.

The other big issue with Hong Kong is the smog. Why in the world is it so smoggy there? I thought I was going to die of pollution right then and there. It's insanity, I tell you! But really, it was hard to walk around outside because it was so smogarific, plus it was like 90+ degrees outside and humid. I tend to melt in humidity. Also I was going through a phase where I wouldn't wear deodorant because my old deodorant had run out and the amount of options at the store was too overwhelming and so I waited until the situation got really really desperate and then got a recommendation from my mom but the whole process took a couple months. SUMMARY: I smelled bad, more judgements from European/Asian/anything non-American fashion club, embarrassment to the family, etc.

But aside from all my complain-ings, the absolute best thing that happened in Hong Kong was when the five of us (my family and I) got mobbed by this big group of Hong-Kongian 6-year-olds who were in some kind of international summer-school-camp thing, and they wanted to interview Americans in English so they could fill out some kind of sheet for a project or something. And they were so adorable, so my brother and sister and I each answered the same English questions over and over again for this big line of kids, and we had to restrain ourselves from taking them home because they were so cute.

I spent a lot of time repeating how to spell 'tofu' in English.

Is that not the cutest thing ever?! My heart explodes when I look at that picture. Just for that, Hong Kong, you get an A+. But.... you probably should figure out what country you are at some point, and you should let the Olympics Committee know. They like to be informed of that kind of thing.

Review of Grandparents

Badass Percentage:

Anyone who has grandparents should consider themselves lucky. Though grandparents can often be a source of annoyance, headaches, and politically incorrect humor, they can also be a source of inspiration. For example, if your grandparent was a badass back in the day, then you will be known as "that kid with the badass grandpa/grandma". Qualifications for being badass include being sassy, having tattoos, playing sports, buying you stuff like candy and beer, not telling your parents all your secrets, and having a bigger attitude than the baristas at one of those dive-coffee places.

Kvetch Intensity:

Of course, you could be cursed with a grandparent who scores low in the "Badass Level" category. These are the kind of grandparents that have a house that smells like stale macaroni and cheese, or pull their pants all the way up to their chest hair, or tell you that you "need to learn how to keep a house so that you can find a nice man and settle down". These grandparents are the ones who call when they don't receive a thank-you note within 6 1/2 days of your cousin Clare's bat mitzvah, regardless of the fact that Clare lives in a bungalow in Arkansas and is technically only your fourth cousin twice removed, and possibly isn't even related to your grandparent at all. These grandparents think it's rude to even acknowledge your phone's existence while in their presence, yet don't see the irony when they say "You never call!" This particular species of grandparent is under the impression that driving laws have not changed since 1940 when they got their license, and are outraged when they are sentenced to traffic school for going 55 mph in a 20 mph zone. 

"Back in my day, they taught you to speed in order to pass a car!" 

"But Grandma, you were passing a school bus. A stopped school bus. In a school zone."

"They make it up just to harass a poor old lady."

The "harassing a poor old lady/man" line is one that is frequently heard directed at traffic cops, secretaries at the doctor's office, the condo association, and anyone that requires them to fill out a form.

Spoiling Score:

The abysmal ratings in the "Kvetch Intensity" category brings the overall score down by quite a bit. But the phenomenal rankings in the “Spoiling” category bring Grandparents up to a passable grade. When you get strep throat, grandparents are always the first to show up at the front door with a pint of ice cream from Baskin Robbins, balloons, and one of those greeting cards that plays “Disco Inferno” when you open it. Grandparents are also the first volunteers for any babysitting, carpooling, and entertaining needs that come up. For example, when Fantasia 2000 comes out in theaters, your grandma has no complaints when you beg her to take you to see it in IMAX. 50+ viewings later, Grandma still isn’t complaining. They sang you nonsense songs you were a baby, let you get a waffle cone even when you dripped chocolate ice cream all over their clothes, and bought you new Tamagotchi pets when your old ones died (they didn't understand how the reset button worked).


Final Review:

Grandparents are like smoothies. On a hot day, a smoothie is creamy and delicious. Grandparents are also creamy and delicious in good conditions. On a blizzarding day, a smoothie will give you frostbite. Grandparents will also give you frostbite, specifically if they disown you and cut you out of their will (this is a metaphorical frostbite). Also sometimes smoothies have unblended bits of fruit in the bottom, and then when you try to suck it up the straw a giant chunk of banana clogs it and it's just a mess. Like it's good, and you're enjoying it, and then out of nowhere it gets gross and weird. So to grandparents can be fun and hilarious, and then come out with one of those weird old-people things like talking about their warts and how their warts all have arthritis. Maybe that's just my grandparents.