There you have it.

When I wrote about the first fire alarm in my building, I didn't think things could get any more uncomfortable. Let's discuss Friday evening (why do these kids love fire?).

I was in the shower, absorbed in deep thought and deep conditioning, when I heard the familiar screeching of the fire alarm. I was not let a little smoke ruin a perfectly good shower, so I finished, put some clothes on (respectable clothes, this time) and went outside to wait for the fire department. They came. They left. It was nothing. Now here comes the fun part. It was Friday night dinner for the Jewish students, and as a Person Somewhat In Charge, I was asked to tell them to wait until everyone else went in the building before they could enter. As I shout this directive to the Chosen Children, a young man begins to argue with me. He said the food was getting cold. I told him I was sorry, but he would have to wait. He said that they were already running behind. Again, quite sorry, but tough break.

Then, he called me an anti-Semite.

Pardon?

Me, queen of the JAPs, eater of unleavened bread, an anti-Semite? Was this kid not wearing his glasses? Curly hair. Wide hips. Commanding ass. All signs point to JEW. I was so stunned that I couldn't even laugh until about twenty minutes afterwards. I had no idea postponing dinner for another three minutes would elicit this reaction. I can't even imagine the bloodshed that would have ensued had I tried to tell them to wait five minutes.

Apparently, God's Chosen People are not God's Patient People.