Well, it's comforting to know I'm not the only weirdo who has crafted romantic narratives about my fellow passengers (and immediately felt ridiculous for doing so).
We had an absolutely dreamy priest for a while when I was growing up. Communion was difficult because you really couldn't help having impure thoughts while kneeling in front of him with your mouth open.
My last name is Cacciaguerra, catch-uh-GWEH-rah. Even when non-Italian speakers DO pronounce it correctly, they tend to slip into a ridiculous Super Mario accent.
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