Attending a Catholic funeral service for a religious family member. The strangeness hits a bit harder as an atheist trans person.

As a 20 yo country kid living in an urban area for school, I got into hard drugs (sober for some time now).

On one occasion I met up with some folks in a crack house to make a purchase. I sat by myself in the front of the living room. It was divided from the rest of the room by a pile of furniture with blankets wrapped to make a wall, like a crack head blanket fort.

A kitten came up to be meowing very insistently, and I picked it up. It furiously licked my fingers, which had crack soaked into them (it melts and if you stupidly touch it then, it soaks in). I yelled over the blankets, “hey I didn’t know you had kittens.” The proprietor yelled back, “yeah dont worry about dropping anything here, theyll clean it up fast.” It was a house full of crack addicted kittens.

I have social anxiety and some kind of high-functioning AuDHD going on. That makes most social events weird and baffling to me to be fair.

But since you want stories here’s a couple that are short and sweet if a bit loosey goosey on the social element:

One time on a bus, late at night, a very drunk individual was encouraging conversation (if only because most of the other passengers weren’t sure what he would do if we didn’t respond). He was drinking something simultaneously black and cloudy out of a plastic bottle and offering people swigs. People didn’t go that far into joining in, hence weird rather than actually scary. I may have said “no thanks I’m not sure what that is”, and thankfully he took it well.

Another time, as a kid with family on holiday somewhere. I forget exactly where. A shop in a high street with windows all covered with special offers and an opening time that was pretty soon. We think: “Why not?”. A crowd had gathered by the opening time. The doors opened. The crowd flooded in with us fairly near the front.

The shop was completely empty save for a few guys in suits in formation at the back, and one by the door who’d opened them. Sleazy sales types, maybe religious types. It was hard to be sure, but clearly some kind of bait and switch. Thus began a wave of people trying to get out as the back of the crowd was still trying to get in.

Back in college I bought weed from a townie. Starting January 1st anytime you bought from him he would include a raffle ticket in your bag of weed. On 4/20 he threw a big 420 party in a public park which was my dealer and all his other customers, which was a lot of other townies and a handful of smaller dealers that source from him. He had a bunch of games and stuff organized and everyone was smoking weed just out in public (this was well before weed was legalized in most places).

This one guy who I think was a dealer introduced himself as “Uncle Eddie,” which sounds like the name of your weird relative that nobody lets near the kids at Thanksgiving, but I digress. He had the words “PUNK” and “ROCK” tattooed on the knuckles of each of his hands. Randomly throughout the conversation he’d tell you to pound it and offer a fist. After awhile I figured out that if he liked or respected something you said, he’d let you pound the “ROCK” fist, if he didn’t like it he’d have you pound the “PUNK” fist. I did not feel comfortable at any point during our conversation.

Anyway, the last event was the raffle and me and my roommates won the prize of a quarter pound of weed. I distinctly remember my dealer handing it to me and saying “congratulations now you’re a felon, man.” It was the dirtiest, reggiest, seed-filled bag of weed I’d ever seen in my life. If I had to guess it was probably about 50% seeds by weight. We tried to smoke some when we got home but it was so awful. It made some pretty decent brownies though.

This timeline.