Five Tiny Hate Stories
The Field Trip Report No. 1
The Field Trip Report
Welcome to the first Field Trip Report! Because it isn’t a field trip without some sort of writing assignment.
I have been so surprised and inspired by the writers I am meeting on Substack, and I wanted a way for us to come together and share our stories. I’m also channeling my 12-year-old self, who started a magazine for her homeroom class, mostly focused on breaking news about our class parakeet. Our report will cover different, yet equally entertaining topics.
This week’s prompt is based on the New York Times Tiny Love Stories, but with a twist. As the great philosophers Elie Wiesel and Taylor Swift once said, the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. But we still can’t have one without the other, and as we see in these stories, they’re often indistinguishable.
These are Tiny Hate Stories, the stories of something you hate in less than 100 words.
This month’s esteemed authors (I have nothing to bribe you with, but go check out their pages — you won’t regret it):
Jenn Overstreet - based in Rome, writing notes on teaching, creativity, and career
Dee Paje - writes travel stories and reflections on building an intentional life in your 30s, documenting from Berlin
Katelyn Gray - writes this culture blog, and let me tell you, she has great taste
Stephanie Mork - former international development professional based in the PNW, writing about slower, mid-budget travel
Thomas Heaps - mechanical engineer living in Milan with his gorgeous wife and baby
To anyone who tips the pizza box...
The pizza is handed to you in perfect condition. The cheese is stretched tight across the surface like a promise of heaven at first bite. And then you (recklessly, carelessly) tilt the box. The cheese avalanches to one corner in a gooey landslide of betrayal. Now I've got naked crust on one side and a cheese swamp on the other. This is not what I ordered. This is what happens when people forget that some things require a little care, a little more attention. Carry it flat as though it's FRAGILE, precious even. Respect the craft! (I'm not asking for much). -Jenn Overstreet
“Nein!”
The first time I got yelled at was at the Foreigner’s Office in Berlin. I had just uprooted my life into a 23-kilogram suitcase and knew five German words.
I asked if she spoke English. “Nein!”, she said.
I felt myself shrink, matching my language skills. She continued to explain something about my documents. I nodded along. I walked out with anxiety and a residence permit I could not read.
It was not the last time I got yelled at. But at least my German has improved since then. -Dee Paje
Retch-Worthy Devils
I hate that deviled eggs are a go-to appetizer at parties. Who thought to remove the yolks from their little home inside the white, mash them up with retch-worthy mayo and mustard, then shove it all back in? I don’t like how these room-temp eggs sit out on tables, looking at me. And the stench always announces their presence before I spot them. Who wants a sulfur smell amidst their beautiful brunch spread? Even the name, deviled eggs… I’m surprised it’s not more controversial given they’re served after every baptism and church event. -Katelyn Gray
Dreaded Fish
I can still smell it like it was yesterday. Slightly earthy, starchy, and the worst part.. fishy. I’m 9 years old, and my mom sets the dreaded tuna casserole on the dinner table, and I wrinkle my nose. There’s a reason I still feel at home around a dinner table. Growing up in the Midwest meant family dinner nearly every night, and even though that meant eating—or picking at—the dreaded tuna casserole, there was always love around the table. I still can’t stand anything with canned tuna, but whenever I catch a whiff of that distinct smell, I smile to myself and think of my mom. -Stephanie Mork
Train Etiquette
I’ve joined my closest friends for our daily commute to work. I smile slightly at people whom I suppose I’ve seen before while I situate myself in my chosen corner next to the door. The train is noisy with the shuffling of people and the hum of the engine, but overall, people keep to themselves and listen to their daily podcast. Everything is perfect until a voice suddenly rings out, “Hey babe, I’m on the train.” A former best friend has just answered their phone. -Thomas Heaps
Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to check out the pages of these great, hateful writers. Have your own tiny hate story, or want to write the next in the next Report? Comment or message me.
Few things test my faith in humanity like deplaning. The system is clear. The etiquette is sacred. Row by row. One from the left, one from the right. A perfect zipper of cooperation.
This is so fun and I want to have fun too!!!