The Day I Accidentally Mace-Lit an Entire Restaurant

Ever have one of those moments where you just wish you could Ctrl+Z your entire existence? The kind where you want to vanish, become invisible, or maybe even flee to a remote planet with zero extradition? I’ve had several of those moments. And unfortunately for everyone involved, this one was public—and involved chemical warfare.

It started on a lovely summer afternoon. My husband Andy and I decided to treat ourselves to lunch at our favorite spot. We were at a high-top table, chatting with our server about our plans for the day. Meanwhile, I was doing what I often do—fidgeting with something in my hands. Sometimes it’s crochet, sometimes it’s a pen, but this time… it was a keychain.

Not just any keychain. No. This was a small, discreet, and very potent keychain—one with a pop-top lid containing pepper spray.

As I fiddled with it absentmindedly, I noticed the lid had popped open. I casually snapped it shut—PSSSSTTT.

That’s when it happened. The hiss of doom. The hiss of every bad decision in my life culminating into one spicy cloud of regret. My eyes went wide. My soul left my body. And then… our server coughed.

Yes. My pepper spray had escaped and gone straight for the orifices of an innocent human being just doing their job.

I froze. Andy froze. Time froze. And then the coughing started spreading. Like… viral wildfire-level spreading. People got up from their tables and rushed outside. Management flung the doors open to air out what I can only describe as my shame mist. The kitchen staff emerged from the back, confuzzled, trying to figure out what just happened.

Andy and I stood there, holding the other set of doors open. I leaned over and whispered the only thing I could think of: "Pray harder."

When the air finally cleared enough to return inside, we paid the bill under a heatwave of judgmental stares, then darted to the car.

Still in disbelief, I called my parents, bracing myself for a serious lecture, words of disapproval— to which I felt I deserved. But instead? There was silence… and then bursts of uncontrollable laughter. The kind of laughter where someone can’t breathe. The kind of laughter that makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they love this story more than they love you. (just kidding... kind of)

Fast forward a few weeks. I’m at a gym in a completely different city. Mid-squat, I get that feeling—you know, the someone’s watching you feeling. I turn my head. And there, across the gym, is the same server from that distressing day. Staring at me.

In disbelief, I did what any reasonable adult would do. I abandoned my workout, left the building, and never went back.

And that, my friends, is why I’ve hung up my keychain-fidgeting for good in exchange for a crochet hook—Lesson learned: some hobbies come with way less explosive consequences. Keep calm and crochet on! 🧶😄

The end.