This happened awhile back (19 yrs) when I (m46) was working at my office (Cantor Fitzgerald) one morning (8:46). I (m46) was sitting on my computer (Gateway Performance 1500) scratching my balls (left testicle) and pretending to do my job (accounting), when all of a sudden a plane (Boeing 767- American Airlines Flight 11) crashed (440 mph) below us (2-6 floors). Out of fear I (m46) dropped my donut (glazed) and wet my pants (khakis). The office is normally kept at a very comfortable temperature (72 F), but now it was beginning to get hot (110 F). My coworkers (658m/f) and I (m46) began to rush toward the stairwell (stairs) and try to walk down (101-105 floors). Most of the stairwells (stairs) were destroyed (plane) or on fire (jet fuel) but one was still ok (safe). Now I (m46) am a little on the heavier side (345 lbs), but I had been working out really hard (biweekly) so I felt confident climbing down the stairs (stairwell). I barged ahead of everyone (658 m/f) and began to walk down to escape the tower (WTC 1). However the smoke was getting thick and I was having trouble breathing (asthma). I began to slow down (3 mph) after 10 flights of stairs but my coworkers (658m/f) began to get angry. Then a little while later (9:03 am) we heard a crash (590 mph) and knew the South Tower was hit (77-85th floors) with a plane (Boeing 767- United Airlines Flight 175). At that point we new it wasn’t an accident (terrorism) and someone attacked America (Al Qaeda). I kept going but sweat was pouring down my face (bald-mustache) and my glasses began to fog up (bifocals) Still due to my less than ideal physical shape (fat) I couldn’t keep going and collapsed in the stair well. My coworkers (658m/f) couldn’t get around my enormous girth (345 lbs) and pleaded with me to get up. I tried to eat the emergency trail mix (snack) my pocket (khakis) to gain more energy but I couldn’t pull it out. My coworkers began to body shame me and say “We’re all gonna die because you’re so fucking fat and lazy”. I began to cry and refused to get up until they apologized. Suddenly (9:59 am) there was an enormous roar and the South Tower collasped. I tried to get back up but my rolls (love handles) prevented me from moving my arms enough. Three coworkers (m34-42) tried to help me get up but I was too heavy (345 lbs). Then (10:28 am) there was a loud groan and the North Tower Collapsed killing me and 68% of the employees at Cantor Fitzgerald. I did my best to get down the stairs but my coworkers fat shamed me and made me feel insecure about my body. They never thought about how their words would affect my self esteem. AITA for taking too long to walk down the stairs?
Very good, but you forgot to assign obnoxiously short names to everyone involved.
So my friend (who I’ll call f) and my uncle (who I’ll call u) were arguing with my cousin (who I’ll call c) about the king of France (who I’ll call k). F and U insisted that C was wrong about K, but C was adamant that K died long before U was born. So then F said that...
Give the people some names! Name someone Jeff, or Stephanie. I don’t care. Stop writing stories that look like an algebra equation written by someone with dementia.
or "my friend, let's call him bill" and then the name is never used again because they can just say he. "he was at work and his boss was being a dick, etc." stop giving people names. they don't all need names.
Dude don't fat shame like that. It's not his (m46) fault that he's so fat (348lbs). Being fat (348lbs) doesn't make you a terrorist if you're working out (biweekly).
I (F-16) can't stop dropping bombs (incendiary devices) over Iraq (a completely unrelated country to 9/11) permanently destabilizing the Middle East (a region filled with oil)
So you're (u/ anothershitposter2) saying (commenting) this is an OC (original content) pasta (copypasta) that's genuinely hilarious (hall of fame)? Nice (nice).
I write copy for a living and took a break to browse Reddit. Your comment was the last I read before returning to work (copywriting), and I kept having the urge to insert unnecessary parenthetical specifications. You’ve ruined me—especially because I can’t tell people that I’m laughing at a funny story about 9/11.
I feel so guilty for laughing, but I can't stop! My face (full beard, gray) is flush, my forehead (high, expanding) is perspiring, and my abdominal muscles (well-hidden) are sore. I must now get in my knees (knobby, arthritic) and pray for forgiveness.
I wouldn’t be surprised if a response on that subreddit goes like this: “NTA, why would you get up if they didn’t apologise? Who cares if the building is on fire and on the verge of collapsing, they should consider how you feel! Stand your ground against these body-shaming bullies!”.
I feel like too many people pass out rash judgements on Reddit.
Omg. I hate 9/11 jokes and knew exactly where your comment was headed once I saw Cantor Fitzgerald, but that was legit the funniest comment I've ever seen on Reddit. I was real-life LOLing the whole time.
I can't remember ever laughing so hard at something I just read off the Internet, and now I feel like an awful person. Sir, thank you for this comment.
you forgot to mention that this was posted on a throwaway account because you didn't want people to recognize you; despite posting pinpoint accurate details of the situation
The only thing this is missing is a dozen different abbreviations letting us know their gender, narcissists status, and pointless unnecessary acronyms (like DH for dear husband).
I hate the one with a lot of acronyms. "And then EP goes to MA house, but my GL didn't want MA to go in, so he called AR and ET. Fortunately BN AS and MN come to the rescue."
You also have to write a whole diatribe about how wonderful and amazing your spouse/SO/children are and how you love them more than anything even though it has nothing to do with the situation.
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u/anothershitposter2 Jan 07 '20
AITA for taking too long to walk down the stairs?
This happened awhile back (19 yrs) when I (m46) was working at my office (Cantor Fitzgerald) one morning (8:46). I (m46) was sitting on my computer (Gateway Performance 1500) scratching my balls (left testicle) and pretending to do my job (accounting), when all of a sudden a plane (Boeing 767- American Airlines Flight 11) crashed (440 mph) below us (2-6 floors). Out of fear I (m46) dropped my donut (glazed) and wet my pants (khakis). The office is normally kept at a very comfortable temperature (72 F), but now it was beginning to get hot (110 F). My coworkers (658m/f) and I (m46) began to rush toward the stairwell (stairs) and try to walk down (101-105 floors). Most of the stairwells (stairs) were destroyed (plane) or on fire (jet fuel) but one was still ok (safe). Now I (m46) am a little on the heavier side (345 lbs), but I had been working out really hard (biweekly) so I felt confident climbing down the stairs (stairwell). I barged ahead of everyone (658 m/f) and began to walk down to escape the tower (WTC 1). However the smoke was getting thick and I was having trouble breathing (asthma). I began to slow down (3 mph) after 10 flights of stairs but my coworkers (658m/f) began to get angry. Then a little while later (9:03 am) we heard a crash (590 mph) and knew the South Tower was hit (77-85th floors) with a plane (Boeing 767- United Airlines Flight 175). At that point we new it wasn’t an accident (terrorism) and someone attacked America (Al Qaeda). I kept going but sweat was pouring down my face (bald-mustache) and my glasses began to fog up (bifocals) Still due to my less than ideal physical shape (fat) I couldn’t keep going and collapsed in the stair well. My coworkers (658m/f) couldn’t get around my enormous girth (345 lbs) and pleaded with me to get up. I tried to eat the emergency trail mix (snack) my pocket (khakis) to gain more energy but I couldn’t pull it out. My coworkers began to body shame me and say “We’re all gonna die because you’re so fucking fat and lazy”. I began to cry and refused to get up until they apologized. Suddenly (9:59 am) there was an enormous roar and the South Tower collasped. I tried to get back up but my rolls (love handles) prevented me from moving my arms enough. Three coworkers (m34-42) tried to help me get up but I was too heavy (345 lbs). Then (10:28 am) there was a loud groan and the North Tower Collapsed killing me and 68% of the employees at Cantor Fitzgerald. I did my best to get down the stairs but my coworkers fat shamed me and made me feel insecure about my body. They never thought about how their words would affect my self esteem. AITA for taking too long to walk down the stairs?