Howdy, Stranger!
It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
This forum is in permanent archive mode. Our new active community can be found here.
Tell Us a Story
Tell the forum a true story that happened to you!
I'll start. In the years after high school, my friends and I used to go out to Hollywood Blvd. on Saturday night sometimes, and just wander around. This is a two-part story about one of those nights.
First, we stopped at the Church of Scientology to take their IQ and personality tests, just for the hell of it. We did the IQ test, and my friend Alan and I both scored pretty high, and they asked if we wanted to take their something-something test. It's the one where you hold the handles of this device in your hands, and a needle on a meter is supposed to read your emotions. So Alan and I each sit down at different tables with a Scientology guy and this device. He tells me to hold the handles, and then starts telling me about how this test measures your stress and whatnot. About this point, I realize that all it does is measure how hard I'm squeezing the handles. He tells me to think about a time in my life that was very peaceful,and when I was really happy everything. I start squeezing the handles a little harder, to push the needle into "bad" end of the meter. He says something like "That's strange..." Then he tells me to think about something very stressful, etc., and I ease up on the handles, so the needle goes to the "good" end. Right about this point, my friend Alan at the other table just blurts out at the top of his voice (forgot to mention the rest of my friends were a bit drunk) "Hey! This thing just moves when I squeeze it!" We both burst out laughing, and just got up and walked away.
A bit later, we're walking down Hollywood Blvd, and we get to this corner, and there's this girl standing there, maybe 20 years old, white, blonde, and she's wearing these little sweat shorts, and she asks us if we know where she can get some pants, because she's cold. It was pretty late, and we told her we didn't know any place that would be open. She starts telling us this story about how she was from Michigan or something, and she lost all her money and all her clothes, and couldn't get back home, blah blah blah. Right about this point, a black man, probably in his 50s, comes around the corner with a shopping cart full of pants. We yell "That guy's got pants!", and fall apart laughing. We tell him, "Hey, this girl needs pants!" and he says "Five bucks!". So we all immediately figured this was some kinda scam, but $5 between the four of us isn't too much to see how it plays out. We got out all our change, and came up with around $2.50, so we started yelling to passers-by "Hey! This girl needs change for pants!" and stuff like that. In a few minutes, we got to $5, so we hand it to the guy, and then the girl says to him "I want the pants you're wearing." So he takes them off right there, and hands them to the girl. Then, swear to god, she takes the shorts off, and she's not wearing any underwear. Just bush and all, right out there on a corner of Hollywood Blvd. on a Saturday night, the street packed with car and foot traffic. What. The. Fuck. She put the pants on, and we went on our way.
Later that night, we ran into that girl again, and she was wearing the shorts again. Scam confirmed, but at least they put on a show for it.
I'll start. In the years after high school, my friends and I used to go out to Hollywood Blvd. on Saturday night sometimes, and just wander around. This is a two-part story about one of those nights.
First, we stopped at the Church of Scientology to take their IQ and personality tests, just for the hell of it. We did the IQ test, and my friend Alan and I both scored pretty high, and they asked if we wanted to take their something-something test. It's the one where you hold the handles of this device in your hands, and a needle on a meter is supposed to read your emotions. So Alan and I each sit down at different tables with a Scientology guy and this device. He tells me to hold the handles, and then starts telling me about how this test measures your stress and whatnot. About this point, I realize that all it does is measure how hard I'm squeezing the handles. He tells me to think about a time in my life that was very peaceful,and when I was really happy everything. I start squeezing the handles a little harder, to push the needle into "bad" end of the meter. He says something like "That's strange..." Then he tells me to think about something very stressful, etc., and I ease up on the handles, so the needle goes to the "good" end. Right about this point, my friend Alan at the other table just blurts out at the top of his voice (forgot to mention the rest of my friends were a bit drunk) "Hey! This thing just moves when I squeeze it!" We both burst out laughing, and just got up and walked away.
A bit later, we're walking down Hollywood Blvd, and we get to this corner, and there's this girl standing there, maybe 20 years old, white, blonde, and she's wearing these little sweat shorts, and she asks us if we know where she can get some pants, because she's cold. It was pretty late, and we told her we didn't know any place that would be open. She starts telling us this story about how she was from Michigan or something, and she lost all her money and all her clothes, and couldn't get back home, blah blah blah. Right about this point, a black man, probably in his 50s, comes around the corner with a shopping cart full of pants. We yell "That guy's got pants!", and fall apart laughing. We tell him, "Hey, this girl needs pants!" and he says "Five bucks!". So we all immediately figured this was some kinda scam, but $5 between the four of us isn't too much to see how it plays out. We got out all our change, and came up with around $2.50, so we started yelling to passers-by "Hey! This girl needs change for pants!" and stuff like that. In a few minutes, we got to $5, so we hand it to the guy, and then the girl says to him "I want the pants you're wearing." So he takes them off right there, and hands them to the girl. Then, swear to god, she takes the shorts off, and she's not wearing any underwear. Just bush and all, right out there on a corner of Hollywood Blvd. on a Saturday night, the street packed with car and foot traffic. What. The. Fuck. She put the pants on, and we went on our way.
Later that night, we ran into that girl again, and she was wearing the shorts again. Scam confirmed, but at least they put on a show for it.
Comments
Mid-bite, I heard a clatter and we all looked up. The other three people in the restaurant were all standing, and there was a turned-over chair by the skinhead's feet. He was yelling at the two long-haired gentlemen for some reason or another while the two of them were trying to cool him down. My friends and I silently decided that this would be a very good time to leave and began to walk out the door as the skinhead threw another chair on the ground and the guy behind the counter reached for the telephone. The three of us walked quickly across the parking lot and, when we got a safe distance away, looked back to see the skinhead kick one of the other men in the chest with his huge black boots. The man was thrown against the side of the building, but otherwise remained standing. We moved farther away and watched from the street corner as the two long-haired men got back to their car, ignoring the shouted threats of the skinhead, and drove off. As their car approached us on the street corner, they rolled down their windows.
"What was that?", one of my friends asked.
"That guy was looking to make trouble," the one on the passenger side replied, "I bumped the side of his table and he went ballistic."
"Don't you kids ever be afraid to smoke weed," the driver said, "it keeps you from becoming an asshole like that guy."
"Yeah," the passenger replied, "stoners never hurt anybody!"
We laughed the whole way back to my house.
But, there is one story that I would classify as the weirdest thing that's happened to me, and it has a great twist at the end.
So this took place during junior year of high school, so I was 16 at the time. This would be seven years ago. I was visiting the local Best Buy with one of my best friends, and we were just checking out new movie and anime releases. We're there for a little while when this guy walks up to us. He says "hi" and we don't want to be rude, so we say "hi" back. Next question he asks, out of nowhere, is "Are you guys in high school?" We reply that we are. "Where do you guys go?" We tell him. "Oh cool, I go there too." And we instantly put on the brakes here. This dude is easily in his 20's, and even if he weren't, we went to a school of 250 students or so. We would know if he went there.
So at this point, we know we should be trying to get out of dodge here. This guy obviously has an agenda, and we don't know what it is. But just when we think we know what might be going on, the dude throws out the next question. "I really like piggy-back rides. Do you guys like piggy-back rides?" Huh? Again, we're going to go along with it until we can escape safely, so we say that we agree, they are pretty fun. "I like giving them too. Do you want one?" We tell him that we're okay. We quickly tell him that we should be going, and we turn to walk away.
Then, the guy jumps on my back.
No joke, complete stranger, in a store, jumped on me. I'm actually pretty impressed with myself though because this guy was easily in the 250 range, whereas I was 6'4" and 165 at the time, which basically means I was scrawny compared to this guy. I managed to stay upright even with his arms wrapped around my neck, putting all his weight on my neck and shoulders. I stabilize and look ahead to see my friend, who looks like he's about to freak out. The guy, however, was having a blast, telling me to walk around. As much as I didn't want to, I also had no idea what this guy might do if I tried to escape at that point. He was obviously not right in the head. So, I did what he wanted and started walking around.
You know those dreams you might have where you're naked at school? Yeah, that's what this felt like, having some guy hanging on my neck while other customers looked in confusion or horror or whatever they did. Luckily I only had to carry him about 30 feet or so before he let go. I instantly backed away from him, but to my surprise he thanked me and held his hand up for a high-five. I complied, and finally, he walked away.
My friend came over and was like, "Dude, what the fuck just happened?" Shortly a couple employees walked over and asked if we were okay, then they said someone would come to get rid of the guy. Nothing else happened after that, but we would surely remember it for a while.
And now for the twist! So a couple months ago, on a particular podcast I listen to regularly that covers strange news stories, the host covered a story about a mentally handicapped individual, from my state, who was arrested for assault against a high school student. What did he do? Forced the student to give him a piggy-back ride. Not only that, but the individual has been reported to have done this act in several areas around the state. What are the odds? It's nice to know that even after seven years, that guy who jumped on me is still jumping on other high school students.
Anyways, I wake up around 7 the next morning. Way too early but can't fall back asleep either. So I walk outside to sit on the bricks that are right next to were we were camping. Apparently some wall once stood there but was torn down. Just right height to sit on. When I get out of the tent, I see a sleeping bag in the waterless ditch that was behind that wall. The ditch is filled with a few tree-branches and the first thoughts are "Someone got really drunk last night." and "Someone's sleeping a bit harder tonight, if he still can feel that."
An hour or so passes and one by one my friends wake up and join me on the torn down wall. About half an hour after the last one comes out of the tent and the rest of the campsite also is slowly waking up, we hear a noise from behind us. Some rattling from the ditch. Suddenly that sleeping bag moves and a guy crawls out of it and out of the ditch. He grabs his sleeping bag and tries to walk away, never minding that the sleeping bag was getting stack at the branches. He tries to move forward but gets yanked back a bit from the bag. So he looks a bit confused and either still too drunk or too sleep-drunk for any coherent thinking he decides to yank on the sleeping bag with all the strength he could muster. The sleeping bag rips open on the branch and the stuffing goes flying everywhere!
However, the guy apparently either doesn't notice or doesn't care as he leaves into the distance searching for his tent, leaving a small trail of stuffing behind him.
A couple days ago I was donating plasma. I do this every week so it's become rather routine. Every time you go in they do some little tests like temperature and pulse and such, which for me are always within the acceptable range. This most recent time, however, I was getting my pulse and blood pressure checked when suddenly an alarm goes off on the machine and the little meter for my pulse shows 231. Apparently that alarm goes off so rarely that most of the employees who were nearby didn't know what it was. One of the guys looks over and tells me that either the machine was glitched or my heart should be about to burst from my chest. Given that I was not having a heart attack and a recheck showed a much more normal readout in the 70-80 range, it was obviously an error but after that every employee who went by pointed and said something like "Hey, 231!" and I got to be the story of the day for this little donation center.
More stories!
Then there was the time I witnessed a fight in the cafeteria line. This wasn't so special except for one thing: I got hit in the head with a chair. I was eating my lunch when some doofus got into a tangle with the principal. He had thrown it at the principle, but missed and got me instead. For the next week, the idiot had to help me in gym class. After it was all over, he was made to write me an apology, and sent to in-school suspension. (I know this is lame, but it's the only other anecdote I have. My high school years were mostly uneventful.)
It was toward the end of Spring quarter at RIT in 2004, and I had come to Rym & Scott's apartment to hang out. Pete was there, can't remember who else. It was getting dark and there had been talk that day of a party being planned, dubbed "Colonypalooza" after the Colony Manor apartment complex. Sure enough people had begun to gather and we had a nice view of the courtyard where the festivities were happening from the window looking out the back of the building (which was one of those ground-level windows since it was a downstairs apartment). More and more people showed up and the crowd grew steadily more drunk and rowdy. Music was blasting from a few apartments, bottles were tossed from balconies, and people constantly walked by shouting and laughing or shuffling along with the zombified gait and unsure focus of the overly-inebriated.
All of this did not go unnoticed by the authorities and we eventually heard talk of more and more police showing up. Eventually we saw this to be true as officers in riot gear began visibly circling the courtyard in the distance, but they stood for quite some time doing nothing. Something eventually compelled us to walk outside and check out the party, maybe make some scientific observations and watch some funny drunks. Apparently in the time it took us to step outside, something happened to trigger the police to move in, as we rounded the corner of the building only to be met with a wave of people running, a look of "oh, shit!" across all their faces. We quickly rushed back inside to watch from the window, and the courtyard was now a scene of chaos.
Partygoers fled this way and that, trying to find apartments to hide in as the police ran after them, throwing pepper-spray bags (or balls, never knew exactly) all over the place. We watched as one guy stumbled past nearby and threw something at the nearest cop - who happened to be holding a police dog, which he promptly released upon the guy. We had the window open and at some point something hit the screen and a little white cloud puffed into the room. It turned out to be pepper spray from on of the bags and we got a nice little blast of it and had lingering coughs for a while afterwards.
Eventually things calmed down and we went back outside to take a little look around. Mostly people standing around talking about the incident, some nursing wounds in the apartment stairwells like a battle had just taken place, others still coughing from more direct pepper-spraying. We heard about some arrests and some people getting direct hits in the face with pepper bags. We went back inside and Rym & Scott began a discussion about all the crimes that could have been pulled off with every police officer in town gathered in one place. It was a crazy night and the incident soon made the local news.
So its Saturday, the second day of Anime Expo 2009, and after spending the day hanging out with Sail and his friends, they decided to go to the dance at the hotel. I decided to stay behind to wait for my ride. Being the geek that I am, I remembered that there was a live ethernet drop somewhere along a corridor in the convention center, so I set out for it. It was at that point where I saw a whole bunch of people sitting on the floor in a big circle, with one person dashing out towards the middle. I decided to get a drink of water and then I headed over there. I found a hole in the edge of the ring and took a seat.
When I sat down, the girl next to me turned to me and said, "If your going to sit here you gotta play."
"Play what?"
"Spin the bottle."
"Wait, you mean like 'Spin the bottle' spin the bottle?"
"yep"
I paused to think about it.
Okay it only took a fraction of a second to decide.
"Yeah, I'm game."
So for the next hour I was playing spin the bottle with about 15 hot cosplaying chicks and some other dudes. There were a few rules though.
The most uncomfortable party decides whether to kiss or not.
No Photos or videos.
"Wooooo"-ing is encouraged.
There was also the silently acknowledged rule among men that, unless otherwise agreed, there will be the man hug (light embrace, double pat on the back, depart).
By the end of the evening, I was kissed and kissed 11 times. Kiss number one was actually my first kiss so this is a fun memory to associate with it. A totally irresponsible memory, but fun none the less (kids, don't try this).
Later on in the con, I had bumped into another guy who was in the spin the bottle game and he told me that, after I had left, the girls were talking about me. I gotta admit, that was a bit of an ego boost right there.
@Sonic I assume this was put in the Boo-yah thread. It is pretty epic.
This is a cop-out, because I'm pasting it from this thread, but I think it's one of my best stories:
About 7 or 8 years ago, I was renting a room in a house with a few other guys. I work nights, so I was asleep in my room at about 11am on a weekday. I woke up as I gradually became aware that someone was talking to me. There was a female cop in my room, pointing her gun at me, and saying something. I took out my earplugs (gotta wear earplugs when you live in a busy house and sleep days), and she was saying "What's the address here?" I had to think a moment -- I was half-asleep, and I'd only lived there a month or two. You'd probably expect to be snapped to attention pretty quickly by a gun in your face, but for a few moments, I wasn't even sure it wasn't a dream.
"Do you have any weapons in the room?"
"No."
"How many people live here?"
"Five, I think."
"Get that blanket off".
"No, I'm naked".
Now, if I were fully awake, I'd have known better than this, but what can you do. So she pulls the blanket off, and I'm laying there, face down with my ass out, for what feels like 10 seconds, but was probably only 2 or 3. Then she says "Wrap that blanket around yourself and go out front with your partner." My partner? So I do so, and one of my roommates is sitting on the front porch, another cop standing over him. I'm just thinking "man, what the fuck did you do?" The cop says something about someone called 911. No idea what he was talking about. There was also this chubby teenage girl standing there, inside our front gate. I asked her "So who are YOU?", but she didn't say anything, and to this day, I have no idea what her deal was. The other cop comes back, and asks us where our house keys are. We tell her, she goes and gets them, tries them in the lock, and then they both just leave without another word. Fucking apology would've been nice.
So my roommate's story is that he was trying to call his girlfriend, whose number started with "9-1", and he accidentally dialed 911, then just hung up. When they sent a car out, like they do, he was in the bathroom, and didn't get out and get the door quickly enough for the cops' liking. This may or may not be the whole story -- we later learned this guy was literally a crackhead.
Which reminds me of another story -- that same guy went missing for the better part of a week, and showed up absolutely beat to shit, having been assaulted and arrested and put in jail for a few days for what he claims was a false narcotics charge. But like I said, crackhead. Still, he was brutally, brutally beaten. He was suing, and I took a bunch of pictures of his injuries to use in the trial. I probably still have them somewhere.
Neither of those stories have much to do with the topic at hand, except that maybe a fucking apology would be nice after waking me up with a gun in my face when I'm fucking SLEEPING IN MY OWN BEDROOM, but I think they're interesting stories.
If you know what I mean.
But, as for stories go, I have a few. I've just been lazy and not around as much. I'm currently looking for pictures to post with one of my stories. Also my stories have to do with boy bands, so I'm a bit embarrassed to tell them. >.>
After an 'Nsync concert we left during the last song to go to our car and drive north to Seattle. We waited half-way down on an on-ramp to the highway, waiting for their tour bus to pass by to follow them to Seattle to their hotel. When we saw the tour bus, we followed it to Seattle and parked near the hotel they were staying at in hopes to get pictures an autographs. Of course there were other fans there hanging out and waiting for them as well. We see a few members get into the hotel and to no luck, we never got an opportunity to get an autograph.
Tera and I, for some reason, still stayed on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. We met a group of girls who were apparently following 'Nsync around their tour in hopes to get connections for a singing contract. They seemed like nice girls and it was really fun talking with them. So we're there for a bit, then all of a sudden we hear this voice, "Wow, you guys are still here."
Tera and I turn around to see the one and only, Justin Timberlake. We were beyond dumbfounded. There, barely 5 feet from us was Justin Fucking-Timberlake. He started talking to the girls who were trying to get that contract while Tera and I just stood there with are mouths wide open. During this time, two girls go up to Justin and ask for a picture. He kindly obliges and gets in a car and leaves.
Yeah, apparently Tera and I were in too much of a shock to grasp the concept that this was probably the only opportunity to ever get a picture with Justin Timberlake. We were total failboats, however to this day, we bring up this story and kick ourselves in the ass for it.
(I have two more boy band stories that I think are way more retarded and I'll save for another post. :P)
So about a year and a half ago, I was just out of college, getting used to living in the Seattle area again, and one weekend two of my best friends invite me to go down to Portland with them for a friend's birthday. I had never met this friend, but I'd heard a lot about her, so I figured "why not?" We go down Friday night and get there kind of late since we couldn't leave until they had gotten off work (I was jobless at this point). We finally get down there and meet up with the birthday girl and another friend, who I had met once previously. It is probably significant to note that this other friend, who I had met before, is a girl who my friends had been trying to hook me up with for a while.
After a cab ride, we get to downtown Portland and start bar hopping. Nothing really to say about this part since nothing of note really happened. It's still the only time I've really been to Portland's core, so I couldn't really tell you where we went. Lots of drinking and food to be had by all in any case. Anyway, at the last bar though, I think my two friends were getting frustrated with me and decided to take matters into their own hands. The girlfriend of the duo pulled me aside and said, "Alright Knoxie, I am going to order you some things and you are going to drink them!" Alright, free drinks for me. So she proceeds to order me three shots of Three Wisemen (for those who don't know and don't want to Google it, that's a shot of equal parts Jack Daniels, Johnnie Walker, and Jim Beam). I down them all in quick succession, and then continue on with what I was already drinking. I don't know how much longer we were there, maybe fifteen minutes or so, but the only thing I really remember is that somehow I ended up in the back seat of the taxi van with the girl I was being hooked up with, and we made out the whole way back to where we were staying. And when we got back to the place, we made out for about an hour more. If it weren't for the fact that our hosts completely failed at providing furniture, things might have escalated from there, but no, it's hard to want to do more than that when you're sleeping on a hardwood floor.
Anyway, that was good fun, and my friends were very satisfied with themselves. Little did they know that that was possibly the worst thing I could have done for that girl since I had been sick with some kind of mega virus for the past month. In truth all four of them ended up catching what I had, so it probably didn't matter. You can lay accusations and say that if I was that sick I shouldn't have gone in the first place, but by that point the only thing I had left was an ear infection, which I'm prone to anyway. I didn't think that after a month, it would still be contagious.
Regardless, the story doesn't end there. The next morning, we say our good-byes and start heading back to Seattle. About half an hour into the drive, the girlfriend in the car notices how nice it is out, and it was. Sunny and around 80. The couple, being who they are, instantly decide that it would be a great day to hit the beach. And they didn't mean any beach, they wanted the ocean. From where we were, that ended up being a two hour detour, each way. But whatever, it was nice out, and it was Saturday. None of us had brought anything though, so if we were going to do that, swimsuits would need to be acquired. We stop at a Fred Meyer on the way there and do just that.
So for two hours, we're chatting and listening to music, doing what people usually do on car trips. And then, just as we are ten miles away from getting to the ocean, the sunny weather suddenly turns to overcast. How much worse could it possibly get when we finally get to the beach, and the skies are cloudy with the wind is whipping our clothes? While that is very typical for Washington beaches normally, ten minutes of driving back towards the mainland it was sunny and cloudless. Needless to say, my friends were absolutely crushed.
After recovering from the sting of that epic fail, we grab some lunch for the road and finally make it back home. Despite the setbacks, I still had a fun time, since it really is impossible to not have fun with those two around.
P.S. The girl and I never did hook up after that. I got to know her a little better in the following months, and I just wasn't into her.
Here is a non-pee related story for the time being.
I volunteered for a summer with a group that helps Bosnian and Chechen children that have lost one or both parents in their respective wars. The program brings children of war to the States and provides them with a summer camp experience focused on emotional rehabilitation, instruction focused on fostering peace and leadership skills, and recreation. These kids were fabulous. Some could be difficult at times, but those were usually the children that had memories of the trauma they had experienced.
Well, one day we were in art instruction and one of the boys started misbehaving. He wouldn't stay in time out and after repeated attempts to calm him down, he ran right out of the building and into the neighboring field.
I chased after him and fairly quickly caught up to him. When I did, he finally collapsed on the ground screaming and crying for his mother. I took him in my arms and he just kept crying as we sat in the middle of this field in upstate New York for what seemed like ages. When he eventually calmed I asked him about his mother. He described her in broken English and in half sobs. I tried to follow what he was saying and what I gleaned was that she was tall with light hair and that she would always sing to him when he was crying. I asked him to teach me a song she sang. He couldn't seem to remember the words, so he taught me the melody. We sang together and he cheered up enough to go back in with me and join in his next activity.
At the end of the day I asked his host mother if there was any way he could call his mother, I even offered to buy an international phone card for him. His host mother thanked me for the offer, but informed me that his mother was killed shortly after her he was born. He was being raised by his Uncle. All of his memories about his mother, that he apparently told everyone about, were just fantasies. His morning counseling session had focused on the subject and that was the root for his behavior. From that day forward he seemed to follow me about and ask me for help in all of his classes.
Even if it was only his imagination, it really felt like I gave him a little bit of time with his mother.