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I've done plenty of stupid stuff, that doens't really need repeating [like Susan and burgo, it mostly invovles fire]

But as for close calls and terrifying moments, the one that really sticks in my mind is walking in on a robber when i was about 16/17.  I got off school early, and back then I rode my bike to and from school, and I always parked the bike out the back.  

So after parking my bike, I notice our sliding back door is off.  The curtains are closed [it's a big windowed back room] so I walk in, and notice cushions from the couches all over the place, the tv and dvd player is missing and my first thought is 'Not again.'  This was in fact the third time we were robbed in 18 or so months.

I walk briefly around, and then notice that the front hallway has some bags in the doorway.  I turn around, and notice a noise.  Turning back to the hallway I see a man looking out our front door.  He obviously heard me and thought it was someone coming home [not thinking that I've come in the back].  I freak, move off to the side and just stand there, out of sight.  Then remembering that my dad walked in on the last robber and he just ran away, I hope to scare him and make him do the same.  I gather myself, take a breath and enter the hallway yelling at the guy to 'get the f**k out of my house'.  He grabs a couple of bags and makes for the door.  I give chase, still shouting.  

He blocks the front wire door with me on the other side.  We push on either side of the door, me shouting get the f**k out of here, him shouting "I've got a knife''.  this keeps up for a minute or two, whilst I grab a big wooden door stop and try to hit him [I've got my arm through the door trying to get at him so he can drop the bags.]

Eventually I give up, go for the phone nearby and he bolts for it.  Since he still has a couple of bags I give chase to his car which is parked a house or two up the street, to which he reaches in the car, grabs what looks to be a knife, makes a move at me and I back right off, but still shouting at him.  He gets in the car, drives off and I try and smash the window as he leaves with the big wooden door stop still in my hand. All the while the cars driving past didn't stop at all.  

As he leaves I etch the number plate and make of car in my head, gather my wits and then call the police.  

My heart has never raced so much since that moment, and I still kick myself thinking not only how bad it could have turned out, but at the fact that if I thought a bit hard about it, I could have grabbed something a bit more substantial than a solid wood door stopper, such as my brother's baseball bat that was in the room near the hallway [and which I could have got without him seeing me right at the start.]

Anyways, he ended up getting caught and sent to prison.  Funnily enough in his garage they found some things stolen from a friend of ours who were also robbed a bit before we were.  A while later the police gave me a follow up call when he was released from prison just to let me know.

Anyways, that's probably the craziest moment I've had so far.

dean Wrote:
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> I still kick myself thinking not only
> how bad it could have turned out,

But, Dean, we all have to fight back against asocial behavior.  You did the right thing.  We cannot not do our part because of the risk; if everyone thought the risk too great, civilization would be doomed.

Initiative and surprise are often two of your best weapons in a fight.  You caught the guy off his guard by charging at him.  If you were already armed before stepping out and had come out swinging, you might have seriously injured him before he had any chance to make up his mind about what to do.  As it was, you kept him off balance and unable to solve the problem at hand (disengaging and running away) by continuing to shout and press him.

Indeed, you were fortunate that he did not have the knife on his person.  He was lucky you did not come out swinging with a baseball bat or hammer.

Katie and I have a fair reaction plan to an intruder in the house.  We also try to be prepared for things to go wrong or to run into trouble.  

Right after moving the family down to here, but while I was still based in NY, I had to catch a train from Baltimore back to NY.  My train was leaving at about 9:30 pm from the Aberdeen train station.  I can tell anyone that you do not want to be at the Aberdeen station at night.  I arrived and had to cross over a walkway to get to the platform.  There were four men hanging out on the walkway.  As I approached they did that little shuffling that sets off warning bells in your head.  I was already wary, but that got the blood and adrenalin going.  My intent was to try to incapacitate as many of them as possible the moment I was either stopped or threatened.  Immediately reacting was my best bet (honestly, my best bet was to back down and not cross the walkway).  The bad thing: four of them meant my chances were way low if they were determined.

Funny enough, a police car pulled up and the officer got out to see what was going on.

My first bike was a Yamaha '81 ES400 Special 2, which I got for $400 in August 1990, shortly after I turned twenty. I owned it about a year, & it was a very interesting year.

My first adventure involved a tailgater who felt that stoplights didn't apply to him. The light turned yellow, & I tapped on my brake to indicate I was slowing down. The tailgater sped up. The light turned red. At 40mph, with a lousy five feet or so from the white bar line, & much less between my fender & the tailgater, I slammed the back break & promptly found myself standing in the middle of the intersection, with the tailgater parked sideways to some frightened lead-foot who had the green light. No vehicular contact, nor introduction to the pavement, so everything was okay, but it was pretty embarrassing.

For my next adventure, for reasons I don't recall, I decided to go for a ride after dark, in the rain. I didn't have a rain-suit at the time, or even a raincoat, so I pulled out this old hiking poncho. As I was casually riding along, a gust of wind came along & blew the poncho over my face. I immediately grabbed it & pulled it down. A little further, another gust of wind came along, & I grabbed the part covering my face, this time ripping it. A few more blocks, & another gust of wind, only this time, different portions of the ripped part blew into my face, & I couldn't find my way out. Panicked, I hit the back brake, & skidded to a stop. Now with both hands free, I managed to tare the shredded poncho from my face. Thank God there was no one else on the street at the time. Now that I could see, I found myself parked sideways on the wrong side of the road. The tattered poncho was now hanging loosely from one shoulder like a toga. I promptly pulled into a nearby gas station & stuffed the shredded mass of wet plastic into the trash, deciding that soggy was safer.

Now before I get into this next adventure, I like to point out that most bike from the '70s & '80s tend to have a disk on the front, & a drum on the rear, while newer bikes tend to have a disk on both ends. This old ES400 had drums on both ends, & I didn't know at the time that they periodically required adjusting. At the time, my front brake had completely dissolved, & I had no idea that a solution was just a few wrench turns away. Add to that, I had been sick with the flu, & was taking three different prescriptions. It had also been drizzling that morning, which, if you ride, is way worse than rain.
I had only three hours of sleep the night before, when I made it into work @5:00am. A few hours later, I found out I was fired for taking too many sick days. So, sick, tired, stoned & disgruntled, I headed out onto slick pavement during the morning rush hour with no front brake.
Somebody in front of me stopped short, & I slammed on the back brake, the bike kicked sideways, & as I saw the pavement rushing towards my face, the last thought that went through my mind was "Damn! I'm gonna get another scratch on my helmet!" I awoke twenty minutes later to learn, well, that's what it's there for.

My final adventure with the Special 2 happened one night when I gunned my bike to beat a traffic light. I was in the right lane, when a car suddenly pulled out of a nearby parking lot. The road curved to the right, so I couldn't jump into the left lane, & I didn't have enough breaking distance, so, somehow, I managed to pass on the shoulder. As I shot past, I briefly noticed the insignia of some type of law enforcement official. I looked down at my speedometer, & realized that I was doing 75 in a 40mph zone. I rolled off the throttle, then looked up in time to see that the ligfht had turned red. I managed to stop just in time. Just then, around the curve came the cop car, speeding with full lights & sirens going... & shot right past me. Whew!

The adventures would continue with a Yamaha '85 Virago 1000 Midnight Special, then a Kawasaki '78 KZ650B, only one with a Kawasaki '80 KZ750E, & none with a Honda '75 CB400F, then in 1995, I learned how to drive a car.

Oh boy do I have many stories to tell, but I am only going to share one for now and that is the story of Dudley Town.  To set the mood here is a link of this infamous town and perhaps the "what the hell was I thinking?"line will be self evident when you realize what me and 3 others decided to do.

http://www.ghostvillage.com/legends/dudleytown.htm

At the time I heard of this town I lived in Massachusetts and was a senior in high school.  I had met a male witch through a friend of a friend, and we began talking one night about the paranormal and the like.  He then tells me about Dudley Town and how he wants to go there to spend the night.  Being a girl who was fascinated with ghosts and the occult and had personal experiences of her own, I was not about to pass up such an opportunity.  I had the car, they had the money, and we both had the drive and curiousity...it was kismet!  Needless to say, the following weekend, me, the witch, my friend kerry and his friend were heading off to Conneticut with our pillows and sleeping bags...and let me not forget the sword, book of spells, and potions my witch friend had on his person!

Well I will tell you that on the way up a bird flew right in front of my car on the highway, swooping down near the windshield that it scared me...but I didn't hit it.  It ws big and I thought it was a crow...but my witch friend smiled and told me that was no crow...that was a raven, and a symbol of his wiccan name I believe.  He saw this as a very good omen.  From that moment on, everything played out like a steven king horror story.

After the experince of the Raven, we come to our destination, but can't seem to find this Dudley Town.  We were looking everywhere and so many wooded areas (which are common in New England towns).  We saw an old woman walking by the side of the road (no side walks in these areas) and ask her where we could find Dudley Town.  I kid you not...the woman's face turned pale and she looked at us hard and long and finally said "You kids don't want to go to Dudley Town."  We assured her we did but she wouldn't tell us the way.  It was a local man that ended up telling us how to get there and he just said "You kids are just asking for trouble."

If I were watching a movie right now and all that I was experiencing was happening, I would have called them stupid for not turning around and going home.  Yeah, we were that stupid too!

So finally we get to Dudley Town and there is only a couple of hours left before the sun goes down so we had to haul ass to find a spot and explore a little before nightfall.  I was actually more disappointed because I was expecting to see some run down rickety houses here and there half  destroyed and warn, but there was none of that.  But there were foundations made of stone and paths that were once thriving streets.  It is a neat place, but I just had envisioned something different.  

We picked out a foundation to set up our camp and had some chow we brought. As for the vibe of the woods itself...it is hard to seperate what it is you are truly feeling to what fears you create in your own mind.  And I suppose that is the beauty of it really.

As the twillight hours began and nightfall was quickly approaching , I can tell you that the fears in us for began to rise.

But we kept in mind we went there for a reason.  This was not something to prove that we were brave enough to spend the night in a ghost town...no we WANTED something to happen.  We WANTED to see or have an experience we would remember for the rest of our lives.  And we did experience just that...a memory that will stay with us always.

I can't say anything out of the ordinary happened that could not be explained away by doubters...and quite possibly our minds could have played tricks on us given the situation we were in.

While we were camping out in our little foundation, we talked until nightfall and stayed up quite late.  At one point, I kid you not, we heard footsteps above, and all four of us shut the hell up in unison without anyone having to "shhhh".When we stopped talking the foot steps stopped.  After a few moments we were asking the normal stupid questions like "Did you hear that?"  "Yeah, did you?", "It was footsteps right?"

So my witch friend gets up and says..."Let's check it out."  I have to say I was a little hesitant, but felt pretty good with my witch friend in front of me holding his sword(yes a real live sword like you see in kung fu movies), and the others behind me.  So we began to venture down the path with only a flashlight in hand.  While we were walking those footsteps started again and almost sounded like running...but only for a few seconds.  This went on a few times, and at one point two of my friends jumped back and let out a bit of a scream because supposedly they saw someone or something running through the woods...like a figure.  I didn't see it and this other kid my witch friend brought along didn't see it.

At this point I think most people would have said "Screw this we are out of here!"  But we weren't that smart.  We actually stood there with the flash light trying to find this "figure".  After that, the footsteps sounds ended.  I didn't hear them again.  I don't know why or what that was about, but I know that part was real.  As we began walking down the trail towards where my car was parked (by the way you can't drive into these woods but have to park at an entrance gate and it is illegal)...there was this thick fog begining to roll in.  Behind us on the trail hardly any fog..in front of us was like a steam roll of fog slowly creeping it's way toward us.  You couldn't see anything but that when we shined the flashlight on it.

For me, this moment was the scariest part of all because the realization came to me...if we had enough and wanted to leave...we had to go through that fog just to do it and none of us wanted to venture into that.  That fog creeping in scared us all really and my witch friend stressed that it is important we get back to our campsite pronto.  Once we got there he still had sword in hand and pulled out some pouch with powder in it and began chanting some spell.  He proceeded to sprinkle the powder around our camp circle.  It was an interesting sight to watch for sure and I later learned this was a protection circle spell he performed.  

I can tell you now that we didn't get much sleep and although we talked, we talked very softly still trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary.   We stayed close together as above us the fog rolled in and became quite thick.  I cannot believe that in the midst of it all we were able to sleep at all...but we did.

I have experienced some frightening things in my time in terms of paranormal.  I have actually seen things move, but for some reason this fog thing got to me.  It was like there was no escape and I had never felt that before.  I knew that we had to get through this night in that foundation and face whatever comes our way...whether it is a local nutcase or something more my imagination was envisioning and the sounds of a forset late at night are not very comforting.

The next morning we were happy to be well and alive and actually looked forward to going home.  We explored a little more and set off for the car.  But we arrive with a little surprise....my driver's side window was bashed in with a huge rock, and my carton of cigarettes that were on the passanger floor are missing.  I guess that could explain the footsteps...for I am not sure ghosts have interest in my carton of cigarettes.

The only thing that bothers me though is how the footsteps stopped like that....and if they were some teens trying to screw with us, I would think they would do a lot more than just footsteps.  Like noises..or maybe even laughter because they can't hold in the hilarity of their prank.  It just doesn't seem to fit all together somehow, but explains the figure seen and the foot steps heard.  What creeps me out more is that it may have been one lone nutcase local spying on us.  I fear them a lot more than any ghost!

All in all I am glad I did it , I don't regret it, but I probably would never do something like that again!

When I was 5 years old my fascination with fire nearly burned my grandmothers house down...luckly itonly destroyed one room, but it was sad because it was my grandmother's art room and so much was irreplacable.  I will always feel bad for that.  My little thing I use to do was take this lighter that was under abench on their cellar floor and light something on fire...I think it was wrapping paper and then quickly blew it out.  This went on daily for about a week straight and I always returned the lighter back to the same place.  But one day I had this really cool idea.  Instead of blowing the fire out I put it out with water!  So I run upstairs to get a cup of water and go back downstairs and that little falme I use to blow out turned into a huge flame about the size of me and mywater didn't do Jack.  There were people in the house but I was too scared to tell them and ran to get more water.  Finally the alarm went off and the fire department had to put it out.

What a horrible time in my little young life.

I used to ride, too, and you are right - too many close calls to count.

Here are a couple:

One day I was nearly clipped from behind by a little weasel in something like a Ford Escort.  This was "city" driving, and he got within about 2 inches of my back tire while changing lanes to beat me to the red light that was about 5 carlengths ahead.  I was so pumped, at the light I pulled off my helmut and signaled him to roll down his window.  He was about 16, may have been driving all of two weeks and was a bit apprehensive as I YELLED at him to "PULL OVER AND GET OUT OF YOUR CAR SO I CAN KICK YOUR ___."  This was not a case of road rage, per se, I was in pure adrenaline, fight or flight mode from that "close call."  From the look on his face, I think I might, MIGHT, have scared him into being a bit of a safer driver, at least for 10-15 minutes or so.

On another day, I dude in truck very nearly ran me down as I slowed to turn into the driveway into my neighborhood.  He did not even slow down, and it was very clear that it was his intent to at the very least scare me.  Now, I did something I am not too proud of and it DID make the situation worse - I flipped him off.  And went on my merry way.

As I turned, I noticed him turning around, presumably to FOLLOW me!  So I gunned it and sped as fast as I dared to my home, ran inside and grabbed my rifle.  I had a good solid rest on the porch rail and was controlling my breathing as he pulled near my house.  I had the front site blade on his forehead and about 2-3/4 pounds off a 4 lb trigger when he realized he was on the losing end of this one and slammed on his brakes, through the truck in reverse and got the heck out of Dodge.  I was very scared - he had already tried to kill me once - I did not know what he was going to do.  I came very close to killing a man that day.

This story reminds me of what happened to a friend of mine a few years ago. He was quite upset by it.  He was outside his house doing some yardwork when he heard a lady screaming and yelling for help.  He grabbed a .45 an ran to investigate.  When he got near the screaming, he noticed a man on top of the screaming woman attempting to rip off her clothes and she was yelling "rape....rape....nooo.....stop," etc.  He drew on the guy and ordered him to get off and lay down - at which point the lady noticed him and said "it's okay.  We were just playing."  It turns out she had some sort of rape fantasy and decided to act it out OUTSIDE - complete with screaming and calling for help.  That little lapse of common sense almost cost her lover his life.

Ulthar - your friend should have gone along with it by playing out the rape fantasy and showing what happens when rapists get caught. Somehow I never got that whole fantasy.

Another close call comes to mind:

When I was 12 me and a friend were walking home from a friends house a few blocks over. The sun had just gone down and it was a nice summer evening. A car drove past us and some older guys were cat calling, then sped off. They did it again, we kept walking shrugging them off as idiots. After we walked up a ways I noticed we were coming up to a street where that same car was parked. The street had been ahead of us the whole time and to park the way they were they had to go around a whole block of curvy roads. When I saw movement in the car I realized they were waiting for us and my heart fluttered. But your 12, and at that age you really don't know wha to expect from people.

As we crossed the street, hurridly, I heard car doors open and footsteps running. We turned around and saw two guys running up to us shouting "Hey", friendly like. But these guys were over the age, they looked at least 18. They walked up next to us trying to talk but we were nervous and kept walking. The one guy next to me kept joking "I could take you and nobody would know". I think i said something to the effect of "Yeah right" when I glanced over and he was gone. He had gotten behind me and grabbed me. He was holding my arms down and lifted me off the ground, because he was a very tall guy so my feet were dangling.

The ironic part was that I had recently participated in School gym class"self-defense" that taught you all the moves. the problem is they gave you specific "attack scenarios". Unfortunately he didn't approach me with one of those moves. Squatting down and outstretching my arms wouldn't break his hold this because my feet weren't on the ground. Kicking him in the shin wasn't even possible, nor hitting him in the throat. My arms were pinned so I was basically helpless.  I was in shock because I still wasn't sure if it was a joke. It took me years later to see that it probably was a joke that had spun out of control, one of those things where a story is followed by the line "The next thing we knew...." and all the other guys were pulled into this unstoppable snowball gone wrong.I struggled a bit, but he was shouting at the two other guys in the backseat "pull the car up!" I had no idea what was going on with my friend, she was standing there scared and in shock a bit and i really don't know what all was said between the guys.

I do remember the confused look on the passengers faces in the back as they obeyed and jumped into the front seat and pulled the car up. The door opened and that's when i began to try and kick and fight but the door was so close and he was so strong. I don't remember if I screamed, it's all quite a blur frankly. But what saved me? A car happened to drive by, saw the whole thing and probably thought it looked like more than just a bunch of kids playing around. It stopped right ahead of the car to a dead stop but i didn't see anything, i was too busy flailing and trying to free myself. Suddenly I dropped to the ground and heard them scatter back into the car and the guy sorta said "Just kidding" as he was getting into the car. It sped off. It later came back, if you can believe that, and they were shouting vulgarities. We ran the rest of the way home down alleyways. I sat in my parents kitchen, ate watermelon and never told them that story until years later.

If you'd believe it that's the second time i was almost kidnapped. Another time two greasy drunk men in a beat up car tried getting me and my friends to get in their car when we were coming home from school when i was around 8. The cops were called and we rode in the patrol car (my first and only cop car ride) to show them where the incident happened and go over details.

Girls have scary enough things to contend with. So i guess that qualifies as a "close call" and thank god for that!

This isn't actually a close call or a terrifying moment, but it is the only time when I really felt I had wandered into a B-movie. It shows you have to read up on the wildlife if you visit the US.

In 1997 I rented a car in Denver and made a wide loop through Wyoming, South Dakota and Montana. On my way back, I decided to visit Dinosaur National Monument. As you may know, this is split in two parts: the popular bit with the dinosaurs, which you reach from Wyoming, and the boring bit which is reached from Colorado. I stayed in an old motel in the town of Dinosaur, Co (pop 319) and made my way up to the entrance. There was nobody at the gate, so I drove through. I was well into the park and had only seen one other car all day when suddenly I noted something strange on the road before me.

At this point I ought to say that nobody had told me about mormon crickets.

When I get nearer I see to my horror that the road and the surrounding countryside are literally crawling with bugs. I have never seen so many bugs in my life! I press on regardless, squishing untold numbers under my tyres. The victims are immediately eaten by other bugs. So here I am, all alone in the desert, surrounded my millions of bugs. Memories of various films start playing in my head. I slow down, take a good look and there two hopeful signs: a) there are still birds and b) there are no skeletons or half eaten cadavers anywhere. It seems they are no threat to larger animals then.

At a picnic site which is slightly less infested (you could see more ground than bugs), I pull over to take some pictures of the critters. I open the door, and somewhat gingerly put my foot out. To my immense relief the bugs in the area immediately scatter. Now you may laugh at me all you like, and tell me I'v seen to many monster movies (true), but I swear to God, if those bugs had hopped TOWARDS me there and then, I would have been gotten the hell out of there and never stopped until I reached Denver.

Further in the park, I met a Ranger who explained about mormon crickets. Apparently it wasn't even a good year for them.

Still, the memory remains vivid. I remember thinking: this can't be happening, this is something out of the Twilight Zone

We had a cricket invasion in texas once. Let me think - I want to say that it was probably 6 years ago because my friend had her baby. I came out of the hospital and the entire parking lot was crawling with them...i basically ran to the car and the tires were a mess. They were in the stores, in the streets...it was nasty.

That reminds me of a car trip through New Mexico when I was a teenager. It was late at night on a dark highway where there are no lights. In the desert the only thing you see are stars and your headlights as there are no stretches of light poles. We were headed to vegas and were probably a few hours away from our next stop.

Anyhow, we heard thumping, something kept hitting the car. We looked around but couldn't see anything...at first. Then something would flash by the road, another and another...thump thump. Suddenly the road was filled and it looked...well it looked alive.

A thunderous roar broke as the car was being struck by what turned out to be - frogs. Thousands of them. In the desert, in the midde of nowhere, all over the road and now all over and under the car. it was the most freakish things i've ever seen in nature with my own two eyes. It didn't last long, and then it was over. If you ever want your imagination to wander, take a drive through some of the rural areas of the desert. I could name a few truck stops straight out of a b-movie, screen door, greasy burgers and one hell of a scary bathroom.

To answer Susan's question, I seem to be doing that alot recently, yes, there is. It is called "The Long, Long Trailer," and it stars Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. I hate to watch that film, because Lucy's rock collection reminds me of my late mother and her rock collection. Whenever we moved or traveled anyplace, she would pick up a few rocks as memetos. And after awhile, as she never threw any of them away, it got to be quite a large collection of rocks. And these were not small rocks. These were big rocks. As some of them required the use of two hands to lift them. And my father's reaction to her rock collection was about the same as Desi's in the movie, though, I don't remember him throwing any of them out.

I, like many here, had a fascination with fire as a little kid also. One time that I remember really scared me and showed me just how dangerous fire could be comes to mind. I was about 7 or 8 something like that, and my mom had left her smokes and lighter on the table. So I proceeded to take her lighter and try to find something to burn. Well my mom had this old bathrobe that was pink and fluffly. And I decided I would burn off a string that was hanging from it. So I proceded to light this string on fire and watch it burn itself away. The only problem is that fluffy cotton pretty much explodes when fire hits it...I mean within the span of a second the entire robe was ablaze....then only a moment after that the chair it was sitting in was on fire as well. I had to run and wake my mom up to put this fire out.

That wasnt even the scary part...the scary part was the trouble I got in for doing that lol.

The one that comes to mind is when I was at a bar playing pool with some friends.  I had to go do number two in the bar's horrible, dirty, barely lit bathroom.  The commode stalls didn't even have locks on the doors, just spring-loaded hinges.

Anyway, I was in there, taking care of business, when the bathroom door opened.  Okay, no big deal.  I noticed the man who opened the door was just standing there, shuffling back and forth.  I figured he was so drunk he probably couldn't remember how to p**s.  All of a sudden, the lights went out.  I had heard the man flip the lightswitch, as it was one of those old-style (actually, just really old) ones that went "CLICK".

Now that a man had come in, acted suspiciously, and turned off the lights, I still didn't think too much of it.  I've seen drunks do dumber things.  But, then, he pulled open the door to my stall and said, "Give me your money!"

What he said didn't register at first.  I've not got much of a temper, nor am I the most assertive person in the world.  But I was fairly well intoxicated myself and nobody, but nobody, barges in on me when I'm taking a s**t.  Before he even finished his demand, I shouted "GET THE f**k OUT!"

My normally soft, quiet voice must have sounded pretty forceful because I felt, like you can in the dark sometimes, the man flinch.  I heard his clothes rustle and what sounded like him pulling an object out of his pocket, or something.

He said, "I've got a knife!  Now, give me --"

I stood up, pants around my ankles, and pushed the man as hard as I could.

"I said -- GET THE f**k OUT!"

He wasn't ready for it and stumbled all the way out of the stall.  The door clapped shut after him.

It was at this point that I finally realized this guy was trying to rob me and probably had a knife.  He was also not hobbled by his pants around his ankles and had felt like a pretty big dude when I pushed him.  There would be no chance for me if he pressed on.  My only advantage was that he probably thought I was a lot bigger and meaner than I really was.

So I did the only thing I could do.  I tried as hard as I could to give him The Stare.  The Stare is how my cat defeats other cats twice his size, dogs, racoons, possums, and the like.  The Stare lets an enemy know that you aren't backing down and, even if he wins, he'll still get really f**ked up.

So I gave him The Stare.  In the dark, through a 1/4" plywood door, I gave him The Stare.

It worked.

The man hesitated for a few seconds, then I heard him open the bathroom door and leave.  I made a token effort of wiping my ass and got out of there.  I even turned the lights back on.

My friends hadn't noticed if anyone went in after me or came out before me.  I told them what happened and they got me a couple of shots of tequila to congratulate me.  We played pool until last call.  It was a pretty good night.

When witnessing a fight, always bet on the crazy one . . .
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Dinosaur National Monument is one of my favorite places on Earth --
I found a pointilist depiction of a Bighorn Sheep that was on no map, and unknown by all -- I probably stayed at that same hotel in Dinosaur proper several times.  The propriotor is a hang-gliding fanatic, and can turn you on to unknown areas of the country pretty quick --
peter explorer/Denny Dino