Imminent Danger

When the Congresswoman being shot was brought up in the New Years drunk thread some people got to talking about what you would do in a situation where your life is in immediate danger. I threw in my story about being involved in a shooting and what I did.

FOCUS: If you've ever been in a situation where your life is in immediate danger what did you do? Has it had any lasting effects?

 

I have no idea, I try to avoid these situations as best I can. I would probably haul ass out of there as fast as I could. With me, fight or flight goes to flight pretty quickly.

 

When I was in one of these situations, one of the things that messed me up the most afterwards was that I discovered that my reaction to these things isn't to fight or fly....I just kind of vacate my body and let it happen without a fight. Whenever I imagined getting into a dangerous situation before that, I always assumed I'd be able to put up a respectable fight. Now the threat of something happening again is even scarier because I have to assume I'm just going to react that way again.

 

....only without the baldness and glasses.

 

I was held up a few years ago. Some kid and his buddy pulled up into a Burger King parking lot and one of the kids jumped out of the car demanding my money or he was going to shoot me. I told him he wasn't going to get a damn thing from me because all I had was my phone. After he told me to hand it over I told him to "fuck off you aren't getting my phone" (which in retrospect was a very stupid idea). After he started reaching into his pocket I was about to start running towards him with my pocket knife when his friend yelled "fuck it, let's get out of here!"

I'll go out of my way to avoid a fight if I can, but if I would have been carrying that day, I think that guy would have been shot when he started reaching towards his pocket. It was because of that incident I started being more involved with firearms and the whole "prepper" movement. Up until I got rid of it, I carried a Glock 17, which I intend on replacing with either the same model or a Colt 1991.

 

A few instances come to mind-

Getting dressed in the locker room after gym class in high school, there were only a handful of us students left. One of the well known gang members pulled out a 9mm and aimed it at me. I think he was only trying to show it off to his friends, but I about pissed myself right there.

I also went to an Allman brothers concert in downtown Atlanta a few years back. After partying a little too much, I got seperated from my group and got lost in the middle of the ghetto. Not "the ghetto" as in black people. Ghetto as in groups of people watching your every move as you stumble along their block with one hand in their pants and the other flashing gang signs and yelling at you. I really expected to end up dead that night, but luckily a cop stopped, told me I was a fucking idiot, and drove me the hell out of there.

 

I’ve had a weapon pulled on me multiple times in my life, Cops, crooks, and one very unstable ex. However the one that stands out is when I was in college and me and 5 other football players rented a house together. We had a party one night (to help pay rent) and after all was wound down, it was just the roommates and various girls with questionable moral fiber. We heard something outside and went to investigate. What we found was 6 little gangbangers trying to break into my truck. We chased them down the street and around the corner to where they had parked. Cue the biggest cholo I have ever seen getting out of the running car and pointing a sawed off shotgun at me. My first thought was “I can get there before he shoots me” My roommate yelled “GUN!” and 4 of the 5 split. I just stood there until I heard one of my boys yell “HEY STUPID, HE’S GOT A FUCKIN GUN!” Cue the flight response as he fired over our heads. That was the exact moment I realized and internalized that I was not but a mere mortal.

Ahh, the arrogance of youth.

 

I worked at a pizza place in college and, while working there, was held up at gunpoint twice.

The first incident wasn't really that terrifying. I was working in the front of the store, a coworker was in the back. A dude walks in who looked like any stereotypical drug addict in any stereotypical cop movie; totally grimey, smelled bad, mismatched socks, covered in sores, with matted hair. Honestly, I was more afraid of contracting TB than getting shot. He demanded I give him the money in the register and then opts to wait for me to open the time delayed safe. My coworker comes out of the back, sees the guy with the gun, and chooses to charge at him. I hid behind the pizza boxes and hoped that Mythbusters was wrong and that they were bulletproof. It turned out the gun wasn't loaded.

The second time was fucking terrifying. Two guys in ski masks broken in the back door on a Friday night. There were probably 10 people, including customers, in the store. One gentleman had a sawed off shotgun, one had a hand gun. I was pretty sure they were fucking crazy. I pretty much stood there and tried to not call attention to the fact that I was the only female in the store, lest they decide to add sexual assault to their Friday evening plans. Had they opted to encourage me to accompany them, I would like to think I would have fought like hell, but not being in the situation, I'm not really sure.

After the second incident, I fucking quit and found a job in an office. Which is what I should have done after the first time.

 

Hopefully I can describe this in a way that's easily understandable for non-climbers.

This past summer, I was about 150 feet up, at the top of what's called a sport route. In sport climbing, there are bolts spaced every few feet for a climber to clip into, minimizing fall distances. At the top is a pair of heavy duty chains, which the rope is threaded through to either lower a climber or set up a top rope for other climbers to follow. In order to thread the rope through the chains, the climber at the top has to clip directly into the chains from their harness and untie from the rope. For the three to five minutes you're setting up the chain anchor and retying knots, you're completely off-belay. Basically, you're hanging from chains drilled into a rock face by a piece of webbing attached to your harness. Climbers use carabiners with a screwlock (you twist it and it prevents the carabiner from opening) to clip into the chains, for safety.

Anyway, so I was hanging from the chains of a sport route in Ouray, CO. I'd threaded the rope, re-tied it to my harness, and was ready to unclip from the chains to be lowered. The Rocky Mountains are notorious for summer thunderstorms that roll in at a moment's notice, but I figured the clouds I saw building over a nearby peak wouldn't be a danger until long after I was back on the ground. Keep in mind I'm hanging from metal chains using a metal carabiner with pounds and pounds of metal attached to my harness. The storm moved in faster than I thought, but if everything had gone smoothly I still would have had time to lower safely.

Of course, everything didn't go smoothly. Some sand had gotten into my screwlock carabiner and the piece of shit wouldn't re-open. I tried with my right hand, my left hand, both hands; it wasn't budging. I coudn't be lowered on the rope until I got the carabiner open. I was stuck. Where blue skies had been minutes before, there were now angry-looking black clouds. I could hear thunder getting closer and closer and closer. Heavy, thick rain started to fall. As I was tied safely into the rope, I could have cut the webbing and left the carabiner on the chains -- but I didn't have a knife. At this point I started to realize the gravity of the situation. I was likely going to get electrocuted if I couldn't get that bastard carabiner open. Trapped 150 feet from any kind of help, I'd never felt so utterly alone.

I attacked the screwlock with the ferocity of a man, well, fearing his own death. The flashes of lightning and the cracks of thunder were coming almost instantaneously now. The hair on my arms started to stand on end, a sure sign of electric charge. Some of the thunderclaps were so violent I could feel them vibrating my chest. The carabiner was wet from the rain, which I initially thought was spelling my doom, as my fingers couldn't get a solid grip. But it turned out to be a blessing. Within seconds of getting soaked the carabiner finally twisted open. I screamed "FUCKING LOWER ME. LOWER LOWER LOWER," and my partner all but dropped me to the deck. I've never been lowered so fast in my life. I didn't even bother untying, I just jumped out of my harness and sprinted to the car.

Safe, my partner looked at me and told me I was bleeding. I hadn't even noticed, but both of my hands were absolutely covered in blood from three deep cuts on my fingers. That's how hard I was twisting that fucking carabiner. My partner later told me he almost left me, as he was worried the electric charge would carry through the rope and strike him, too. I now never, ever climb without a sharp knife. I still have the blood-stained carabiner and keep it on my harness, I guess as a reminder to always double-check my equipment before leaving the ground.

 

Talking about my car accident is a dead horse on here, but I did get in a scuffle with a skinhead who I was pretty sure was trying to inflict great harm on me. In one of three incidents where a blade was sunk into my person, I was passing by a rock bar in my city called The Embassy when I simply brushed shoulders with this pilot jacket-sporting Hitler youth. Seeing he was a skinhead, I didn't apologize. He ran after me and demanded that I did. I told him he didn't have his faggot friends around to help jump me and should walk away, so I turned and kept heading down the street. He yelled "HEY!!!" I turned, and he swung a barber's straight razor at me. He missed wildly the first, and I was backpeddlling drunk so when he went for the money shot at my face, I put up my hand and he sunk the blade between my pinky and ring finger. A new meaning for the word "pain" would be the best way to describe the feeling. By then, a bystander had seen this, grabbed an old piece of shank 2x4 lumber form a garbage pile on the curb and walloped him across the back of the head like Roberto Clemente. Good night Irene. My hand was frozen into a blindingly painful claw, but my mysterious hero slipped a metal trash can over the top half of this unconscious cheap-shot artist and I booted it as hard as I could at least a dozen times with all my strength while clutching my hand. I went to the hospital, and I never saw the guy who helped me again. He may have saved my life (or at least good looks) and one of my greatest regrets in life is that he bolted before I could thank him.

 

Focus: I've been robbed twice (one gun, one knife) and found myself in potentially disastrous situations many other times (impending asskickings, police interrogation while seriously inebriated). The guy with the knife was drunk and easily outmanuvered. The gun dude only cost me $40 because I had the balls to lie about my bank balance and the patience to drive him around Atlanta for two hours, listen to his deranged bullshit without going tooth-pulling insane, and steadfastly refuse his offer of buttsex without pissing him off too badly. (I wish I was making this up. It was... awkward.)

I took Tae Kwon Do as a teenager and learned how to supposedly disarm a gunman. I'm not sure it remains in my muscle memory, and I'm less sure it would do the job in less than ideal circumstances. If the guy with the firearm wants to negotiate, I'm certainly open to that. If someone just came at me blasting, I don't know what I'd do except hope I wore dark pants that day.

In the best circumstances, my stream of conscious thought has shut off, allowing me to function on instinct. I'm sure Robert Greene and 50 Cent could rephrase that more usefully.

Side note: Giffords (D-AZ) was arguably saved by a 20-year-old intern, on the job for five days, who happened to have some EMT experience. Something to think about next time you're hiring people.

 

I was robbed at gunpoint once. The guy got my wallet, watch and cell phone. The thought never even occurred to me to fight back. I had taken martial arts for a few years before then, and even if I had been armed there's no way I would have tried to stop him.

It's all just stuff, and if the guy is at the point where he needs to rob me for whatever reason, I don't really want to press him and see what happens. It's not worth risking getting shot (or stabbed) over.

From my description it seemed like that same guy robbed someone else that night, and they never caught him. It bothers me somewhat that I let someone do that to me without trying to stop him, but it's just not worth it over things that can be replaced.

 

I've said this before and am not going to write the stories out again, but I've had guns pointed at me several times. The times where it was by soldiers or cops, it is different. I knew that keeping cool and complying would end the situation favourably. Sure you're still stunned, but you are thinking clearly for the most part. It changes when it's random people holding the gun. The very first time a stranger pointed a gun at me it was pure terror. You don't think, you freeze up and try to piece together the situation very VERY slowly. Your brain just isn't working right because you aren't used to the situation and there is no one right way to act. This goes on until you experience the situation enough that you begin to encounter other feelings but the fear is never replaced. At least that is what I experienced. The fear doesn't really go away but instead becomes manageable, if that makes sense. The reality of the situation is still clear to you but no, you will not be 100% cool, calm and collected. No, no matter how often this happens to you, you will not be able to Rambo yourself out of the situation at the drop of a hat. But instead of just fear, you also become angry. I can remember thinking "HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK OK RELAX" but also "who the fuck are you to shoot me? the balls on you to point a gun in MY face? a piece of shit like you is going to shoot me? I am a good person, you have no fucking reason to be doing this." Thankfully I haven't crossed the line and still cannot tell you what being shot is like.

 

I was due to fly Boston to LA September 11 2001, but rescheduled my trip. That's a bit of a mind blower.

I'm currently watching the news as the town I lived in until 10 months ago is now pretty much destroyed. 8 confirmed dead, 72 missing, likely to be more dead before the morning is out and the flooding is just getting worse, and it's heading towards my house. Rant. Shouldn't be a direct health hazard to me or mine - but I've got some friends with major damages and it's gonna be a fucking shitstorm dealing with the fall out. The news guy just had to hand over back to the studio when he started crying during an interview. There's some incredible footage of a couple trapped in a car in a flood field of mud and debris, who they think didn't survive long enough for the news chopper to get rescue services back to them.

I was mugged at knifepoint twice when I was 19 and 20. The first time, the guy was clearly infuckingsane and fortunately was leaving himself wide open because he was either out of his mind or high as shit. I was a fucking moron with an incredibly inflated sense of my own capabilities, and got incredibly lucky when I stripped his weapon and restrained the guy long enough for someone to hear the kerfuffle and get the cops. The other time I got lucky and a the guy legged it when two cops came around the corner. I was young and stupid and didn't realize at the time how badly it could have gone and thought I managed them both because I was awesome. Reality is that I was just incredibly lucky.

 

I was about 100 feet away, and 450 feet up in an office when this happened:



It didn't turn out to be much, but at the time, our windows were caked with mud and the building was rumbling. Nobody knew what was going on, and given our proximity to the Chrysler Building and Grand Central, a subway bomb seemed pretty likely.

I'm pretty happy that I was neither one of the people who wanted to pack up their purse with shit like their blackberry charger before evacuating, nor one of the people who shoved their way down the stairs.

I was a little on edge for a few weeks. After living in NY for a while, you don't notice how much time the ground spends rumbling from subways running underneath. No long term effects though.

 

I feel like I've told this story a few times, but I once roller skated down a steep hill at the end of which was a very steep drop. I was 11, It was stupid. I stopped in time.

 

My ex and I were fighting. Well, he was fighting. I was so disengaged at that point ofthe relationship that I just let him do it, for the most part and ignored him or grunted in response while I texted back and forth with friends of mine.
We'd had an 'amicable' agreement that I would remain in the house for a period of time while the divorce was processing and after that we'd go our separate ways.

I honestly, without listening to the tape again, couldn't tell you what pissed him off so badly that night. I remember sitting on the kitchen counter and him walking away, then I heard him coming back down the hallway with the 12 gauge, loading it.

I immediately texted my friend "He's got a gun", but didn't call 911. I wasn't 100% sure that it was a good idea to call the police with the weapon pointed at me.
He told me he was going to blast the goddamn phone out of my hands, so I put it in my lap, looked at him, and said in the most level, non hysterical voice I possibly could:
"You need to put that away. Now. Put it up. If you don't, I'm going to call the police. If ANYthing happens to me, you WILL go to jail tonight. You WILL be locked up. You WILL lose custody of your son, and you JUST got your visitation back. Put it up. Now. Take it back to the bedroom and put it up."

He stood there looking at me...and very slowly put it down and took it away.

He came back in and continued engaging me, but was unarmed, thank God.

My heart was pounding and my chest was so tight. I don't know if he would have done it or not, and thank God I didn't have to find out.