What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
For most people, the smell of fresh bread is comforting—warm, nostalgic, maybe even a bit magical. For me? It’s a red flag. Actually, scratch that. It’s a giant, flour-dusted warning sign that says “Danger: Gluten Ahead.”
So, the one place I never want to visit? A bread factory.
I know that might sound odd. People rave about bakery tours and love the idea of seeing how the loaves are made. But for me, stepping inside a bread factory would be like voluntarily walking into a trap—like a coeliac version of “Saw,” but instead of creepy puppets, it’s conveyor belts of crusty bloomer loaves and enough airborne flour to trigger a full-blown panic attack.
And sure, I know they probably follow food safety rules and wear hairnets and all that, but let’s be honest—there’s no “safe” amount of flour for someone like me. It’s not just eating it, it’s breathing it in, brushing past it, looking at it. I’d probably need a hazmat suit just to make it five minutes without a reaction.
But it’s not just about the physical side of things—it’s the emotional punch in the gut too. There’s something quietly brutal about standing in front of thousands of perfect loaves and knowing not a single one is for you. It’s like being the only kid at a party who didn’t get a slice of cake, except the cake is massive, industrial-sized, and smells like betrayal.
So yeah, bread factory? Not on my bucket list. I’ll admire the smell of toast from a safe distance and stick to my gluten-free corner of the kitchen where the flour’s made of rice or corn, and the bread—well, okay, the bread’s fine once you toast it and butter it aggressively.
We all have places that just aren’t for us. For me, it’s anywhere that feels like it was designed specifically to make my immune system cry.



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