By Nichole Giles
The other day, my husband and I booked theme park tickets for a trip we’re planning. In the process, the web page expected personal information. So there we were, filling it out, and up pops this option for a title.
Now, most normal people don’t worry about titles when booking theme park tickets. Do they? But just for fun, we scrolled through the options and had a good laugh trying to decide which one to use. See, this option—usually used for Mr, Ms, Mrs, etc—had given us an opportunity.
The best part was that this list of options was more extensive than any I’ve ever seen. For instance, besides the usual Mr. or Mrs., we were offered the title of Rabbi, Father, Sister, or Vice-President.
To my great consternation, they did not offer the title of President—otherwise that would have been the title we chose. It’s possibly the only opportunity we might have had for Gary to be referred to as “Mr. President”. I suppose I wouldn’t have minded being called, “Madam President” myself, but my daughter—who is the president of her student body—claims it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
We ended up deciding on Doctor, since that is what Gary decided he wanted to be that day. Though I’m sure he knows about as much about appendicitis as a doctor, that isn’t his chosen profession. Not even close. But now he gets to be a doctor for a day.
In the event of an emergency, I hope the people at Universal Studios will understand—as many of the people who work there are actors or artists of some kind—that though my husband has added the title of doctor to his name, he doesn’t actually know how to sew on severed limbs or drill holes in the brains of people who have passed out from too much brain pressure.
Hey, if that were to happen, at least it would give me something to write about!