My Dad: “When do you leave for Chicago?”
Me: “I fly out on the 23rd.”
My Mom: “Please be careful while you’re there. Chicago is a very dangerous city.”
Me: “I will, I promise. But I’m going to be so busy with the contest that I won’t have much time to even leave the hotel.”
My Mom: “Please be careful at the hotel. And wedge a chair under the doorknob of your room.”
Me: “Um, okay…”
My Dad: “No, really. A friend of mine stayed at a hotel in Chicago once, and he put his wallet on the nightstand before he went to sleep, and when he woke up, it was gone. Someone came into his room and robbed him while he slept.”
Me: “Jesus. If it’s that bad there, I’m just going to push a dresser in front of the door every night before I go to bed.”
My Mom: “Well, I mean there’s no need to overreact.”
Me: “…”
My Mom: “But you’re probably going to get mugged.”
And yet they wonder why I’m on medication for anxiety.
Don’t ever show them Houston’s crime rates!
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I think your mom and my mom would get along well. We can go hang out in the corner popping Xanax together.
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