The other night Joe and I were leaving a grocery store. I was on my side of the car and he was on the other side, about to unlock it for us. Joe said “Watch out.” So I looked away, thinking he was going to spit (he knows I don’t like to see that, and so when he’s going to he usually warns me). Instead I hear a load blowing sound and look over to see Joe blowing on the car and a small black thing soaring through the air, straight at me. I hurry backwards as the black thing arcs toward me. It finally hit the ground, less than a foot in front of my sandaled feet. It was a black cricket. Now, I hate crickets. I really hate roaches, but black crickets are a close second. Grasshoppers are okay, but crickets are not. Joe knows this about me. Joe starts to laugh. (it’s my blog, I can change tenses if I want) I demand “UNLOCK THE CAR, NOW.” Joe stops laughing and unlocks the car. We get in the car and ask “What were you doing?” Joe explains that there was a cricket above his door and he was blowing it off so he could get in the car. When I asked why he blew the cricket at me, he said that he wasn’t trying to blow it directly at me, just away from the door. That’s when I declared, with all the authority I could muster, “You don’t blow crickets at people.”
We laughed about it later… apparently Joe has made it 26 years unaware of this key rule in social interactions.