Ever been stuck in an "unnerving" situation?

RFW

RFW

Certified Night Owl
Location
United States
I'm disregarding all the Vietnam and LE experiences since that's what the jobs entail.

I was driving on a backroad, going home. It had just started to snow and my car decided to crap out and die and I was only about two miles out. It didn't look too bad out and the road had been plowed earlier in the day so I said f it and walked. Flip phone was dead but at least I had my concealed carry. Beautiful night but it was very very dark, with snow refracting light a tiny bit. Not ten minutes after, I started to get this unnerving feeling that something was not right. I didn't do well in darkness as a kid and that sensation came back to me. There were way worse things that had happened to me but I was with company or in constant communication with one. This time I was all alone. I kept thinking I should have left a note in the car for someone to find, just in case. Some time later, paranoia set in, I had my weapon in my hand just to make me feel a little bit safe. The whole journey on foot that felt like it took forever was peaceful and nothing happened. I got home, locked the door, flipped all the light switches, turned on the TV and left it on QVC to make the place feel lived in and fell asleep on the couch.
 

win231 said:
I'm assuming you also had a decent flashlight with you - like the type designed for use with a handgun. Complete darkness also makes me a little nervous. I have powerful flashlights & LED lanterns for blackouts.
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No. The mounted tac light for this gun didn't fit in my favorite holster. That's what made it worse and I didn't even have a lighter.
 
To answer you question, yes. When I feel like that I whistle a tune. Seriously though, I think it is a self preservation instinct. My awareness becomes heightened because of the possibility of unforeseen dangers. I am a firm believer in going with my feelings. Even if there is no unfavorable outcome. By paying attention to them I am better prepared. I adhere to the old adage "in everything be prepared." Or not. Your mileage may vary...;)
 
oldpop said:
To answer you question, yes. When I feel like that I whistle a tune. Seriously though, I think it is a self preservation instinct. My awareness becomes heightened because of the possibility of unforeseen dangers. I am a firm believer in going with my feelings. Even if there is no unfavorable outcome. By paying attention to them I am better prepared. I adhere to the old adage "in everything be prepared." Or not. Your mileage may vary...;)
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You're right, it's in our nature. I would talk to myself but I didn't want to give my position away. I was overwhelmingly paranoid and that feeling didn't go away until morning.
 
About 3 years ago, I was waiting for my pharmacy to open so I could get my script filled.
A woman slowly walked behind me, I kid you not the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my flight fight instinct kicked in, I took off in the direction of my car at a very hastened pace. That very same night I checked our local paper online as I always do, to find out that a person was stabbed in front of the pharmacy by a woman that was on crack. It was the same woman.
 
Tish said:
About 3 years ago, I was waiting for my pharmacy to open so I could get my script filled.
A woman slowly walked behind me, I kid you not the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my flight fight instinct kicked in, I took off in the direction of my car at a very hastened pace. That very same night I checked our local paper online as I always do, to find out that a person was stabbed in front of the pharmacy by a woman that was on crack. It was the same woman.
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Whoa. You really dodged a bullet there. :eek:
 
I can relate to that feeling, RFW! Maybe there was cause for concern, but thankfully nothing actually happened.

My story took place over 40 years ago. I was working double shifts as a waitress, and to save money I usually walked quite a ways to get home; over two miles. Part of my walk took me past a lonely cemetery, and then onto a strip of highway. Thinking back, I am horrified that the little, skinny thing that I was at the time, was not afraid. Anyway, one night near the end of Summer, I got off work at around two am. I had been walking quite a while and was now approximately two blocks away from where the road sloped down to the cemetery. That stretch of road had no lighting, but I had walked it many times before. And it was nearly the home stretch.

This night something was different. I was overcome with a feeling of absolute terror. It had started to drizzle, and I didn't have an umbrella. There were no houses on this part of the road, just a small doughnut shop across from where I was hesitating. For no reason that I could see, I felt certain that if I continued my walk, I would come to grave harm. I stood where I was, frustrated and getting chilled from the rain. I had to get home, but each time I considered going forward, I felt that same certainty not to proceed.

Just then a huge 18 wheeler truck pulled up in front of the doughnut shop. I watched the driver go in, and made up my mind to ask for a ride. I felt no danger in this; I figured this guy was just on his route and would not mind taking me a short distance. When he came out, I asked for a ride and he consented.

I will never know what may have been waiting for me on that road, but I also know that I had a narrow escape.
 
One sticks out. A cold snowy Vermont winter night. Wife and I had been visiting friends on the other side of the mountain. Winter driving is no big deal, but, by late night, the wind started to really starting to pick up so we decided to head for home. (dirt roads about 6 miles from home). First part of the trip wasn't bad, Road was plowed so only a few drifts. However, going down one huge hill, the counties changed and no one had plowed the other side. We hit the bottom doing about 50mph and plowed snow up and over the hood of the old 57 chevy. Made it up part of the hill, then because I had to slow down due to the corkscrew turns in the road, it only took a minute to bury the car. So now we're about 3 miles from home smack in the middle of a howling blizzard. We decided to walk from there. Me, wife and dog head out. About halfway home, wife is starting to chatter and slur her words. Now I'm worried. The only place between us and home was an old farm house, so there I was pounding on the door at about 1 am. That kindly old dairy farmer brought us in, stoked up his stove cherry red and brewed so hot tea. I actually broke of pieces of my wife's frozen hair. :eek:
That story is why I never drive a car in winter without extra blankets, water, some snack food, and a trunk load of sand, shovel, and high lift jack.
Oh yeah. the dog... was fine...;)
 
carouselsilver said:
I can relate to that feeling, RFW! Maybe there was cause for concern, but thankfully nothing actually happened.

My story took place over 40 years ago. I was working double shifts as a waitress, and to save money I usually walked quite a ways to get home; over two miles. Part of my walk took me past a lonely cemetery, and then onto a strip of highway. Thinking back, I am horrified that the little, skinny thing that I was at the time, was not afraid. Anyway, one night near the end of Summer, I got off work at around two am. I had been walking quite a while and was now approximately two blocks away from where the road sloped down to the cemetery. That stretch of road had no lighting, but I had walked it many times before. And it was nearly the home stretch.

This night something was different. I was overcome with a feeling of absolute terror. It had started to drizzle, and I didn't have an umbrella. There were no houses on this part of the road, just a small doughnut shop across from where I was hesitating. For no reason that I could see, I felt certain that if I continued my walk, I would come to grave harm. I stood where I was, frustrated and getting chilled from the rain. I had to get home, but each time I considered going forward, I felt that same certainty not to proceed.

Just then a huge 18 wheeler truck pulled up in front of the doughnut shop. I watched the driver go in, and made up my mind to ask for a ride. I felt no danger in this; I figured this guy was just on his route and would not mind taking me a short distance. When he came out, I asked for a ride and he consented.

I will never know what may have been waiting for me on that road, but I also know that I had a narrow escape.
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You explained it really well. In my line of work, I saw people get murdered or vanish into thin air like this all the time.
 
squatting dog said:
One sticks out. A cold snowy Vermont winter night. Wife and I had been visiting friends on the other side of the mountain. Winter driving is no big deal, but, by late night, the wind started to really starting to pick up so we decided to head for home. (dirt roads about 6 miles from home). First part of the trip wasn't bad, Road was plowed so only a few drifts. However, going down one huge hill, the counties changed and no one had plowed the other side. We hit the bottom doing about 50mph and plowed snow up and over the hood of the old 57 chevy. Made it up part of the hill, then because I had to slow down due to the corkscrew turns in the road, it only took a minute to bury the car. So now we're about 3 miles from home smack in the middle of a howling blizzard. We decided to walk from there. Me, wife and dog head out. About halfway home, wife is starting to chatter and slur her words. Now I'm worried. The only place between us and home was an old farm house, so there I was pounding on the door at about 1 am. That kindly old dairy farmer brought us in, stoked up his stove cherry red and brewed so hot tea. I actually broke of pieces of my wife's frozen hair. :eek:
That story is why I never drive a car in winter without extra blankets, water, some snack food, and a trunk load of sand, shovel, and high lift jack.
Oh yeah. the dog... was fine...;)
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Extreme weather sure doesn't help! There was a famous case of missing persons in California back in the 60's I think. 5 people abandoned their vehicle the same way you did, went missing for months, all found dead later in different places around there.
 
RFW said:
Just complete darkness and my own imagination.
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Which is what people need to remember. Imagination can be a wonderful thing but we have to learn when to reign it in, mute it, without totally disabling, because when in truly problematic situations that creative thinking can help us 'fix' things, or at least survive.

I have never been afraid of the dark or by being alone. Learned as a child there is nothing in the dark, that can't be there in the light. We feel unnerved by the dark because most of us are so dependent on our vision.
 
Almost every time I've gotten that feeling, I found out later it was justified.

One night while I was living in a small town deep in the Sierra foothills, I was driving my granddaughter home from a cinema and we were taking this narrow road through a residential area about 5 miles from my cabin, and I got this feeling out of the blue that I needed to slow to a stop. Just after my granddaughter asked me what was wrong, we spotted the most gorgeous and huge silver wolf looking at us from the edge of the road, waiting to cross. I turned my headlights down low, and s/he crossed right in front of us and headed into somebody's yard.

Not only are silver wolves rare, it was widely accepted that no wolves at all lived in that region. The 2 tribes that lived there argued that they did, so first thing the next morning I went and told a buddy of mine who was Maidu, if I remember right. He told me about the silver wolf being a great omen and all that, but also he reported my sighting to an elder in his community, who kept a log on stuff like that; creature sightings, star, moon and planet charts, artifact findings, etc.

Anyway, I always pay attention when my antennae sense something. It's almost always actually something.
 
I won't go into great detail, as I've related this story before. Nightfall, crossing through school grounds, sense someone behind me. I'm attacked and fall on my knees at the bottom of a flight of stairs that go up to the street where my apartment building is. A polite young man picks up my glasses, puts them on my face. Then, hands me the package I dropped. Taking my hand, he asks me to go into a dark corner with him. I'm thinking "if I go with him, he's going to rape and kill me". I fake being hurt. I tell him "just go, I won't call the police". He's suddenly gone.

The police say he must have been a first offender - and that I was lucky.
 
Murrmurr said:
Almost every time I've gotten that feeling, I found out later it was justified.

One night while I was living in a small town deep in the Sierra foothills, I was driving my granddaughter home from a cinema and we were taking this narrow road through a residential area about 5 miles from my cabin, and I got this feeling out of the blue that I needed to slow to a stop. Just after my granddaughter asked me what was wrong, we spotted the most gorgeous and huge silver wolf looking at us from the edge of the road, waiting to cross. I turned my headlights down low, and s/he crossed right in front of us and headed into somebody's yard.

Not only are silver wolves rare, it was widely accepted that no wolves at all lived in that region. The 2 tribes that lived there argued that they did, so first thing the next morning I went and told a buddy of mine who was Maidu, if I remember right. He told me about the silver wolf being a great omen and all that, but also he reported my sighting to an elder in his community, who kept a log on stuff like that; creature sightings, star, moon and planet charts, artifact findings, etc.

Anyway, I always pay attention when my antennae sense something. It's almost always actually something.
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You always have cool stories to tell. It would be nice to see silver wolves in the wild but certainly not in this situation!
Pinky said:
I won't go into great detail, as I've related this story before. Nightfall, crossing through school grounds, sense someone behind me. I'm attacked and fall on my knees at the bottom of a flight of stairs that go up to the street where my apartment building is. A polite young man picks up my glasses, puts them on my face. Then, hands me the package I dropped. Taking my hand, he asks me to go into a dark corner with him. I'm thinking "if I go with him, he's going to rape and kill me". I fake being hurt. I tell him "just go, I won't call the police". He's suddenly gone.

The police say he must have been a first offender - and that I was lucky.
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This is new to me, Pinky. That was quick thinking. Very smart.
 
Tish said:
About 3 years ago, I was waiting for my pharmacy to open so I could get my script filled.
A woman slowly walked behind me, I kid you not the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my flight fight instinct kicked in, I took off in the direction of my car at a very hastened pace. That very same night I checked our local paper online as I always do, to find out that a person was stabbed in front of the pharmacy by a woman that was on crack. It was the same woman.
Click to expand...
This is the thing, learning to distinguish between irrational, fear spawned feelings and survival instinct. Me? I will generally prefer to err on the side of caution. Usually actual body cues like you had mean it's the latter and we must listen and act. Personally i'll risk feeling or looking foolish rather than take unnecessary risks with my safety and/or life.

I suspect my trust in my instincts is part of why darkness and aloneness themselves do not unnerve me. I trust i'll sense a real threat.
 

Ever been stuck in an "unnerving" situation?​


Reminds me of a childhood experience;


When I was about four or five, we lived out in the country.
A sparsely populated neighborhood tucked back in the Chapman hills about twenty miles outta Scappoose.
Our place, and gramma’s place, atop the hill, was separated by five acres of strawberries carved out of a thicket of fir trees.
Ever so often I’d stay at gramma’s on a summer evening.
She made good pancakes….and the folks were going out.

One time I waited too long at home. There was just too much cowboy’n to do, and I’d lost track of time.
It was already twilight, and I had several hundred yards up the hill thru a couple clumps of trees to negotiate.

As I trudged thru the first glade of trees, I thought about eyes staring at me.
I’d seen lots of bear sign in my tiny travels, and some bobcat and cougar scat here and there. So, plenty to consider.
(Actually, years later, coming from town one evening, we pulled into the garage, and a big cat jumped down from the rafters and fled into the night. We just saw body and tail, but it was, without a doubt, a full grown cougar.)

Whistling seemed to rid the noises of the stillness in the dark regions of my petrified mind.
A generous moon lengthened shadows, turning stumps into animals of prey, licking their lips, fixated on my dashing form, like Tag would when I showed him the stick I was about to throw.
Ever so often I'd give a quick glance back, but the glaring, glowing eyes that were obviously there would mysteriously disappear.

The clearing, the path, the 300 yard dash.

Breathing came in gasps and pants…or was that the breath of the galloping cougar that was about to sink his teeth into my neck any minute, and tear my puny body to shreds.

The folks will wonder in the morning, ‘Where’s Gary?’

Then, days later, they’ll find bits of Oshkosh b’goshes, right at gramma’s door, and shreds of poop stained fruit of the looms, and the brim of my straw cowboy hat, the hat part that once housed my furrowed little noggin now several miles away in a steaming mound of mountain lion poopoo.

The clump of trees loomed ahead, separating me and gramma, good ol’ pillowy armed gramma…..even good ol’ grumpy grampa.

I heard something shriek, or was it a howl…I don’t recall my feet touching the ground over the last few yards thru their back yard thicket.
I do recall gramma, and her audible laughter, her high pitched teehee, as I hung my coat in the utility wash room of the back porch.
Apparently my countenance that morphed from bug eyed terror to smiling relief in the time space of flipping a light switch sorta tickled her.

The pancakes were extra good that next morning.
 
Gary O' said:

Ever been stuck in an "unnerving" situation?​


Reminds me of a childhood experience;


When I was about four or five, we lived out in the country.
A sparsely populated neighborhood tucked back in the Chapman hills about twenty miles outta Scappoose.
Our place, and gramma’s place, atop the hill, was separated by five acres of strawberries carved out of a thicket of fir trees.
Ever so often I’d stay at gramma’s on a summer evening.
She made good pancakes….and the folks were going out.

One time I waited too long at home. There was just too much cowboy’n to do, and I’d lost track of time.
It was already twilight, and I had several hundred yards up the hill thru a couple clumps of trees to negotiate.

As I trudged thru the first glade of trees, I thought about eyes staring at me.
I’d seen lots of bear sign in my tiny travels, and some bobcat and cougar scat here and there. So, plenty to consider.
(Actually, years later, coming from town one evening, we pulled into the garage, and a big cat jumped down from the rafters and fled into the night. We just saw body and tail, but it was, without a doubt, a full grown cougar.)

Whistling seemed to rid the noises of the stillness in the dark regions of my petrified mind.
A generous moon lengthened shadows, turning stumps into animals of prey, licking their lips, fixated on my dashing form, like Tag would when I showed him the stick I was about to throw.
Ever so often I'd give a quick glance back, but the glaring, glowing eyes that were obviously there would mysteriously disappear.

The clearing, the path, the 300 yard dash.

Breathing came in gasps and pants…or was that the breath of the galloping cougar that was about to sink his teeth into my neck any minute, and tear my puny body to shreds.

The folks will wonder in the morning, ‘Where’s Gary?’

Then, days later, they’ll find bits of Oshkosh b’goshes, right at gramma’s door, and shreds of poop stained fruit of the looms, and the brim of my straw cowboy hat, the hat part that once housed my furrowed little noggin now several miles away in a steaming mound of mountain lion poopoo.

The clump of trees loomed ahead, separating me and gramma, good ol’ pillowy armed gramma…..even good ol’ grumpy grampa.

I heard something shriek, or was it a howl…I don’t recall my feet touching the ground over the last few yards thru their back yard thicket.
I do recall gramma, and her audible laughter, her high pitched teehee, as I hung my coat in the utility wash room of the back porch.
Apparently my countenance that morphed from bug eyed terror to smiling relief in the time space of flipping a light switch sorta tickled her.

The pancakes were extra good that next morning.
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Good read, Gary.
 
Yup!
My scariest: Driving up the Yukon solo, I lost my way. (no map) The only way I could get back to the Alcan highway was to climb this huge, sharp craggy mountain, thousands of feet high. It started out gravel but quickly became mud, snow, ice as it narrowed. No guard rails; couldn't see the edge. It took all day and all night. Snowing heavily. I'd pull over to the cliff as far as I could to let the lumber trucks by and even then we would both have to pull in our mirrors.
It was thousands of feet high when the last truck squeaked by (with his tires on the mountain side), My Toyota Forerunner was at a sharp angle. I felt the earth crumbling under the truck. My front right wheel was in the air. It wasn't a comfortable angle. It was WAY TOO MUCH of an angle!
Opened my driver door and stuck my hand out with my purse,( So they could identify the body if it came to that) I scooted over to the side edge of the seat and stretched my right arm and leg to manuver the gas and steering wheel. It was a balancing act! If it slanted even an inch more, I was going to jump! Don't know how I made it back on the road (must have been my angels) but I made it! It was night now and snowing hard! Icy. No visability. I had to roll down the window to reach out and feel the side of the mountain, as the sky and road were one. At the very top of the mountain, there was a big sign, "Welcome to Highway to Hell Mountain!" You got THAT right!
 

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