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Raising the Bar

For my 8th grade class trip, we went to France and Great Britain. While in Paris, we ate a pizza parlor. Heavily experiencing jet lag, I rested my arm on the metal bar on the back of our booth.

The food was fabulous and nothing like pizza in the United States. After finishing my food, I pushed my arm between the two bars because they were quite cold and the restaurant was steamy.

After drinking multiple pints of bottled water, I decided to attend the restroom facilities with the other girls. I stood up, but realized that my arm had decided not to come along for the ride.

When I told my group that my arm was stuck, everyone thought I was kidding, until "Raquel" started yanking on my arm to no avail. Eventually, the trip sponsors notified the restaurant managers of our dilemma and they called the fire department, who had to literally unscrew the top bar from the bottom bar so that I could ease out my swollen arm.

In other words, make sure your table has a plentiful stash of butter packets before you begin dining.

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