There was a thread in MPSIMS (that I am waaaay too tipsy to try to link to) that challenged other posters to find the one false statement in three that a poster made about themselves. I participated in that thread and one of my statements was that I was involved in 3 shoot-outs before the age of 20. No one picked that particular statement as true about me even though it was.
This got me thinking: Am I really that unique? Am I the only poster on this messageboard with such experiences?
Here are my “Holy Shit!!! They’re fucking SHOOTING” experiences[ol]
[li]When I was around 6 or 7, my aunt befriended a woman with a crazy husband. This woman was having a very bad medical problem. Apparently, she was experiencing much pain due to a fallopian pregnancy. This crazy husband did not want her to see a doctor because he did not want another man messing with his wife’s genitalia. My aunt took this woman to the emergency room.[/li]
Well, the husband got wind of this, stormed down to my aunts apartment waving a gun. My aunt shoved me and her son (who is a year older than me) into a closet with a telephone. The upshot? One dead wife.
The only thing I actually remember about this episode was crying and being very, very frightened while in the closet with my cousin. He actually dialed 911. Everything else I’ve said I learned from the retelling of the story.
[li]My future husband needed to see a man about a dog in an apartment building in The Bronx. I elected to wait in the lobby. Less than two minutes passed when a man came running past me. Immediatley behind him came another man with a gun. Let me say that there are not many places to hide in an apartment lobby. Man with gun ran up to scared man and-- point blank-- shot him.[/li]
I was already halfway to the first landing when the gun went off. Future husband was by my side before the gunshot stopped echoing around the enclosed hallway. He had to be very coercive to get me to go back down that half flight of stairs. I did not want to see what I thought was waiting in the lobby.
The only thing waiting in the lobby was the smell of sulfur. No body, no gunman-- not even any blood. Which I thought was very strange because I saw the gunman run up to the shootee and point the gun at the guys neck. The gun was actually touching his collar when I turned and ran. Then-- boom!
What happened was that the shot man ran out the building and down the block before he collapsed. I talked to the police but I was never contacted after the initial on-the-spot interview. I don’t know why-- I was the only eye-witness.
[li]I’ve told this story to so many people I feel a little foolish repeating it here. This was how I originally injured my knee almost 20 years ago. Let’s see if I can make this short.[/li]
Future husband and I were walking to my aunt’s house (different aunt from shooting #1). A guy starts shooting in our direction from across the street. Another guy walking about 5 feet in front of us reaches into his shirt, pulls out a gun and starts busting a few caps of his own. I run one way, future husband pulls the other way. I run 3 blocks before I realize I can’t even walk. I fall to the ground and everyone thinks I’m shot.[/ol]
Three shootings before I even turned 19. I know this is very unusual, but I know people who have not only witnessed more, but have actually been on the recieving end of a bullet. And other posters on this board have lived much more interesting lives than I have. I can’t be the only one.
Mrs. Lorenzo witnessed a gang shoot-out in our backyard. The neighborhood was pretty dangerous. My mother would call me every time a violent crime taking place in our block was reported in her local paper, on average about once a week.
We stayed there for many years thereafter, until it started getting personal.
I went into this topic thinking I was going to write something like “Hey, this is the Internet; We all have $500,000 homes and drive Italian sports cars. All the men have 10-inch genitals and the women 36DDs. Of course we’ve all been in our fair share of firefights.”
But, after reading your story, I think I’ll simply say that no, I have never been in any shoot outs.
Oh, and just ignore the fact that I wrote my snide remark anyway.
I wasn’t directly involved in any shoot-outs, but the kid who lived across the street from me shot himself in the head a number of years ago. From where his body was found, the police deduced that if he’d missed, he’d have shot into my living room. And I once heard gunshots from nearby in my old neighborhood. They were close enough that I hit the floor and crawled out of the room to get to a phone. The police made some arrests that night, but I do not know the details.
As an aside, why is it that whenever you hear a report of gunshots on TV, the witness says “It sounded like a car backfiring” and whenever there’s a car backfiring, people say “I thought it was a gunshot!”? Why do gunshots never sound like gunshots, and backfires like backfires?
When the guy across the street started firing his gun my first thought was “whose light those strange sounding firecrackers?” Gunshots on TV and in the movies sound a whole lot more dramatic than real life gunshots.
Most people who aren’t gunowners themselves simply haven’t heard many real gunshots, whereas some of my friends could tell you what caliber a shot was. Certain calibers such as .223 are quite distinctive, and of course a shotgun sounds much different from a rifle or pistol.
I have had people shoot toward me… but there was a berm between us. It was interesting because you hear it in reverse time - first the impact, then the shot.
I was at a party when I was about 20 or 21 years old. It was a huge party held out in this huge storage facilty. Some guys came in and caused some trouble and got into a fight. So, the owner of the property kicked the guys out. About 1/2 hour later, they came back and did a drive-by. I think they had several different types of guns, because my car had a huge bullet hole in it just above the rear tire. The bullet went through the car and lodged into the back of the front passenger seat.
About 5 or 6 people got shot with was seemed to be a BB or pellet gun (I don’t really know the difference). One of my friends was stoned, and he came up to me with his arm held out. He said, “Dude, I think I got shot.” He had blood on his forearm. It was pretty weird. I ended up taking him to the hospital.
Of course, the weirdest thing was that my friend, John, actually shot back. (How the hell did he get a gun??) Very scary situation at the time, which seems amusing in a surreal way now.
The O.J. Simpson trial was going on over in the other courthouse. Meanwhile, I was cooling my jets in the big jury room in the L.A. County Courthouse. I heard a pop. “That sounded like a gunshot,” I said to myself. Pop! Pop! “Small caliber. Maybe a thirty-eight.” People in the jury room started panicking and running about. “Now that’s just wrong. Doesn’t that person know the effect of firing a gun indoors around people who aren’t used to hearing guns?” I was offended. Not scared. Offended. How dare someone be so rude as to cause a panic like that! “I wish I had my Beretta, just in case he comes in here. No. He’s not going to come in and start shooting at random. Still, I wish I had it. Just in case.” By now almost everyone had taken cover where they could. I shrugged and got off of the bench and knelt down beside it. After a few seconds I thought, “This is just silly,” and got up and sat back down on the bench.
Turned out there was a divorce case going on. The woman won the car in the settlement, so the guy shot her in the hallway in front of their eight-year-old daughter. Must’ve been some car. Anyway, I was offended by this man’s lack of civility and by his rudeness, and I was and am disgusted at the kind of mentality that would cause him to do such a thing – especially in front of a little girl.
I’ve lived in my apartment for longer than I care to think. Gunshots in the alley outside of my bedroom window (which is elevated above the carports) were not uncommon. Since I had a paper route at the time (I delivered The British Weekly and the L.A. Rock Review on Saturday mornings – very early – I decided that the next time someone fired a gun in the alley I would shout, “Do you mind? People are trying to sleep!” About the time I made this decision the Crips and the Bloods came to a truce. There has only been shooting once since then, and I couldn’t find anyone to yell at.
Before the shootings stopped, a man was passing in front of the building. Someone drove by and fired at him. He ran into the courtyard to escape. After that, we got a locking security fence.
The only time I’ve had bullets flying in my direction was when I was in high school. I got a job during a two-day target competition and was in the pits, pulling targets. I did not expect the bullets to be so loud. Like most people, I assumed that the noise was mostly caused by the muzzle blast. But the main racket is caused by the shockwave coming from the supersonic bullets. Even when the shooters were a thousand yards away, it sounded as if I were standing right next to them. The only time it got a little scary was when one guy was hitting everything but the target. He hit the wooden rails and the berm that was behind the pit. He hit the flag pole and you could hear the ricochets spinning off the-gods-know-where.
I would say that I am fortunate not to have ever been a target myself, but saying I’m “fortunate” would imply that shootings are much more common than they are. So like most people, I have not been targeted, and I’m glad of that. I’m also happy that I’ve never been put into a situation where I would have to use a firearm in anger.
A friend who lived 4 blocks away moved out after a gang shooting left a dead body on the side of his garage.
Had seen several people running with guns in their hands.
Missed (by less than 2 minutes) two shootings at the same corner involving people just getting off the same bus, in seperate incidents about 3 years apart. (and people kept asking me why I refused to take the bus to work…)
Had been threatened with a gun. My mouth was bigger and the guy backed down. (It was 2am and I was damned angry. I guess that surprised the hell out of him!)
Displayed (but never pointed or discharged) my own pistol five times to prevent morons from breaking into my house when they knew I was there! Heck, one of those guys heard me call 911 - didn’t stop him trying to break down the door. Then saw me with a butcher knife in my hand - again didn’t slow down, so I went and got my .357 and displayed that. He finally turned and ran.
Oh, and the cops never showed up. Here I’m calling 911 because someone is breaking down my door - and the cops never come by!
But I’ve never been involved or near an actual shooting.
Grew up in Hell’s Ten Acres.
Went to Viet Nam.
Dealt drugs in L.A. in the early 70’s.
Can’t remember a time in my youth when guns weren’t de rigour.
Funniest story however comes from later in my life. I met a good woman, got married and reproduced. Decided that I didn’t want to raise my kids the way I was raised. Moved to the “country,” got a straight job, and went about becoming a stand-up citizen.
Sitting in a bar one afternoon after work playing shuffleboard. One of the guys at the bar is a real low-life; wife-beater, bigot, bully, etc, etc. His finally fed up wife drives by and sees his truck outside the bar, goes home and gets her .357 and drives back. Whoops, she forgot bullets, drives to the local market and picks up a box, (Rural America; where you can buy bullets when you buy your milk and bread). Pulls into the parking lot, puts four bullets in the gun, comes in the back door and fires all four bullets in hubby’s direction. 2 of them hit him, but they’re not fatal, he’s crawling across the floor trying to get out the front door. She goes out the back door, reloads, comes back in and puts 3 more in him finishing the job. Sits down orders a vodka and waits for the police.
This woman would be the first woman to successfully use the “Battered woman’s syndrome” as a defense.
Grew up in Hell’s Ten Acres.
Went to Viet Nam.
Dealt drugs in L.A. in the early 70’s.
Can’t remember a time in my youth when guns weren’t de rigour.
Funniest story however comes from later in my life. I met a good woman, got married and reproduced. Decided that I didn’t want to raise my kids the way I was raised. Moved to the “country,” got a straight job, and went about becoming a stand-up citizen.
Sitting in a bar one afternoon after work playing shuffleboard. One of the guys at the bar is a real low-life; wife-beater, bigot, bully, etc, etc. His finally fed up wife drives by and sees his truck outside the bar, goes home and gets her .357 and drives back. Whoops, she forgot bullets, drives to the local market and picks up a box, (Rural America; where you can buy bullets when you buy your milk and bread). Pulls into the parking lot, puts four bullets in the gun, comes in the back door and fires all four bullets in hubby’s direction. 2 of them hit him, but they’re not fatal, he’s crawling across the floor trying to get out the front door. She goes out the back door, reloads, comes back in and puts 3 more in him finishing the job. Sits down orders a vodka and waits for the police.
She would be the first woman to successfully use the “Battered woman’s syndrome” as a defense.
Two of 'em, both in Baltimore (I was an innocent bystander in both, not a gunwoman). One was when a disgruntled customer shot at my neighbor (a drug dealer), and one was a bank robbery.
I had a round from a Colt AR-15 zip past my head. The moron I was shooting with had hair too long, and it blocked his scope. He fired anyway, and hit a railroad track. Twice. It took a few seconds for my buddy to realize what was happening, and he grabbed the gun away from the fool. After the first shot, he didn’t recognize the Hollywood sound effect ricochet? (Sounded just like it, only slightly deeper. And the bullet flying by sounded like a hummingbirds wings) The bullets dented the railroad track. The dents were about a centimeter away from each other, so at least he was consistant.
I’m more like a Biggirl alter ego. I arrive after the violence. I’ve found 3 dead people. What’s more disturbing and unpleasant is discovering the nearly dead ones.
I am a coach. We were in a bus riding up to a school for a game. I saw a group of 13 - 15 year old boys running toward us. We were approaching a 4-way stop. My first thought was, wow, look at that cross country team running. Goodness they don’t even have work out clothes but they all managed to get themselves dressed in white t-shirts and jeans. At least they are all dressed the same / similar. Then out came Mr. Pistola. I almost wet my pants. We turned right and I watched this lady walk out to the edge of her porch with a baby on her hip, waving a finger and fussing at these guys. I do not know how many of them were armed. I saw only one up front with the pistol. No shots fired however. I couldn’t believe the woman standing out there fussing at this gang. Unbelievable.
A friend of mine was walking home from work one night about 9 pm. Some guys drove by and shot him with a pellet gun. He was fine, of course but I still wonder why they decided to do that.
Closest I ever got was hearing shots on the #4 train coming into Grand Central while I was on the platform (shared with the #4) waiting for the #6. Not being a gun guy, it sounded a bit like construction noise, as if someone dropped a big metal object on another metal object.
Everybody crowded around behind the steel columns, so I did too, wound up standing with my heels right on the edge of the platform, a sea of scared people in front of me, the #6 tracks behind me. That was scarier than the shots, I should’ve just stood out in the open.
My father was an investigative reporter who made a gangster mad. He sent his “boys” to our house on Christmas Eve the year I was four. My brother answered the door, they asked for my dad, he slammed the door & they opened fire. Neighbors called police. No one hurt, gang members pursued & caught. Santa brought me a beagle puppy & a red bicycle.
It was interesting because you hear it in reverse time - first the impact, then the shot.