It was another fine day in Charleston with my friend and her sister. We had decided to go to ‘The Market’ downtown that day. We weaved through people left and right, stopping at different tables under the shelter of the building’s. Everyone was huddled under to get away from the sun.

The day was nice, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, but it was nice. My porcelain self ducked under the buildings as much as I could. I only have two shades, porcelain, or lobster. The buildings were only about a car length a part, so I could bounce out of one building into the next without getting much sun. The buildings were also built to where you had to walk up a ramp to get into each one. The streets were a lot lower than the buildings for whatever reason.

We were halfway through these buildings when mother nature decided to change it up a bit. One second, it was sunny and hot, and the next second there were black clouds and a down pour. Out of nowhere, rain poured down on us like someone turned on a faucet. I was standing in one of the buildings watching people walk around as if nothing changed. They ducked out of one building into the next.

The rain itself didn’t bother me, I for one know I won’t melt. The water level, however, was a bit concerning. Before I could move, the water flooded the streets, the drains were so backed up it shot water BACK OUT OF THEM. The water level rose so fast and so high, it was beginning to enter the buildings. My friend (who used to live in Charleston) and her sister (who now lived there) didn’t bat an eye.

“Uh, is no one else alarmed by this?” I asked, pointing outside at the water level.

They both smiled at me, “No, this is normal.”

Of course it is.

Without another word they turned back to their table. I felt my head tilt a little as my brows furrowed. I glanced back outside at the water level, it was still coming down and the water was still rising. It was so high now; the water was over the tires on the cars that drove by. Still, everyone carried on. If this kept on, we would be washed into the ocean that was just down the street. I’m not a good swimmer and I don’t care to think about what’s out there in the ocean waiting for me.

I was about to voice my concern again when this random man in a KAYAK floated past us, in between the cars that were being overtaken by water. I watched as he paddled his little heart out, weaving in and out of the cars down the street.

And then, just like that, the rain stopped. The sun came back out and everyone kept on with their day. The streets were still flooded, the water splashed up against the buildings as people began to wade through it to the next building.

My friend and her sister stepped out into it.

“Um,” I spoke up.

They were a lot taller than me and the water hit their knees.

“It will be gone in a second,” my friend reassured me.

Because of my porcelain (white chicken) legs, I wore pants while everyone else wore shorts. Reluctantly, I followed behind them. Stepping into the flood, the water rose above my knees, soaking my pants and making it extremely hard to keep my flip flops on. As I struggled to get across the street to the other building, I was thinking about how random all those events were. Just as I lost one of my flip flops to a massive wave that swept by me, I looked up to see a horse and buggy stopped in front of me, waiting for me to get across the road so they could pass.

I’m sure I looked as confused as the horse did. I reached in and grabbed my floating flip flop and jumped back into the building, letting the horse and buggy pass by. My friend and her sister were already in the other building shopping. I stood at the door and watched them fade into the crowd as I pulled my flip flop back on. I decided to wait in the building until the water level dropped.

​At this point, I’m pretty sure there were shark’s swimming in the streets.

You never know what you’re going to hear when you pick up the phone at the pharmacy. Let me explain. I answered the phone one night and the following conversation took place.

“____ pharmacy, this is Laura. How can I help you?”

“I need to speak with a pharmacist.”

“She’s on the other line with a customer, can I help you or would you like to hold?”

“Are you a pharmacist?”

“I’m a technician.”

“Honey, I have a little problem. Maybe you can help me.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Words you should never say, especially in a pharmacy.

“I swallowed my inhaler.”

At this point in life, it didn’t surprise me. I thought it would, but it didn’t.

“You swallowed your inhaler?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

I was a mix of concerned, confused, and overall, curious as to how this customer swallowed an entire inhaler. The fact that they were still breathing alerted me that I wasn’t getting the full story.

“Did you swallow part of your inhaler or the whole thing?” I asked, resting the phone between my ear and shoulder while folding my arms across my chest. I noticed everyone working in the pharmacy look at me.

“Well, honey, I was talking to my daughter and got distracted and swallowed it.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow.

“The whole thing?” I asked again. Do I need to be calling 911?

“No, honey, just the capsule part that goes in the inhaler,” they then told me.

I inhaled slowly, closing my eyes.

Just a little pharmacy background in case you don’t already know. There are some inhalers that come with a capsule that you place inside the inhaler itself. When the patient closes the inhaler around the capsule, it punctures the capsule, releasing the medication into the device. Allowing the patient to receive the medication through the mouthpiece.

“So, you just swallowed the capsule that goes in the device and not the inhaler itself?” I clarified.

“Yes.”

“Okay, give me just a second and I’ll get the pharmacist for you.”

I put them on hold and skipped to the back, where the pharmacist was now checking a prescription.

I poked my head in the door and yelled, “Pharmacist needed on line one. A patient just swallowed their inhaler.”

I then promptly turned and walked off, I heard the pharmacist shout in a confused tone, “What?”

​I said what I said.

I was in Charleston with a good friend of mine, visiting her sister, when we decided to escape the 142-degree weather outside. We ducked into a Chick-fil-A on the corner and ordered some food. We were waiting at a table when I noticed this kid in a Chick-fil-A shirt walking around the room with a basket of mints. He stopped at every table asked if the customers would like one.

Chick-fil-A has a reputation of having some bang-up customer service, so this didn’t surprise me.

When he reached our table, he offered up the basket. I of course took one and so did my friend.

“Thanks,” I told him, pulling on the wrapper.

When he offered the basket to my friends’ sister, she smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t want a mint,” she told him, “But I’ll take a hug.”

There was a stunned silence as I looked up at her from my wrapper.

I don’t think they do that here.

The kid stood there, trying to remember if that was on the contract he signed when he took the job. I shot a look to my friend who was equally concerned.

Apparently, my friends’ sister had taken a long pause before she finished her sentence which ended in, “Bobby.”

It was only after that, this kid realized they knew each other. They went to church together. He smiled and they hugged, while I sat there in stunned awkwardness. When he made eye contact with me again, I threw my hands up and shook my head.

​“I just wanted the mint,” I told him. 

I was in my teens, my parents and I had stopped in several stores during the hustle and bustle of the holiday rush, to mark off some names from their Christmas list. I remember both my mom and I were holding bags filled with our purchases, when we walked out the door into the parking lot.

Straight in front of us, a small crowd had gathered. There was a man with a long beard who spoke to the crowd, whatever he was saying, it had them all mesmerized. We stopped to listen. I remember pushing myself up to the front so I could see. He was in regular clothes for that time of year, but on his head, he wore a Christmas hat. He was probably in his twenties.

“Anyone,” he asked.

The crowd looked at each other.

“I’ll say it again for the new folks joining us,” he said.

I folded my arms as he stepped back to broadcast.

“Here’s a Christmas riddle for you,” he said, “What is on my hat, that you get one free?”

I glanced at his Christmas hat. Just towards the bottom of it, there was a small mistletoe leaf.

The crowd looked at each other again in confusion. Are you serious? It’s not that hard.

“Mistletoe,” I called out.

The man seemed shocked that I had gotten it, he stood there for a second and then nodded. He pointed at me, signaling that I was correct. It wasn’t until he started walking towards me that I realized what I had just done to myself. As he bent down, he puckered his lips.

I flung my hands up in front of my face as I screamed. Leave it to me to be subtle. I fell backwards into the crowd, desperately searching for my parents. I was about to be kidnapped, where were they? The man stopped in his tracks and flung his hands up to his sides.

“What,” he cried out, “do I have fangs?”

He seemed a little insulted. It’s then I caught a glimpse of my father, who had been standing behind me the entire time. He was laughing! I tripped out of the crowd and bolted for the car. The realization of why no one was answering his riddle, was crystal clear at that point.

​Yep, lesson learned.