There is a strange phenomenonthat I was afraid of involving water pipes. It occurs when cold air gets into a pipe and then sinks into warmer air. This creates a sound that has different pitches depending on the size of the pipe. One time, when I was six, it was very cold outside, and the bathtub had been filled with wonderful hot water, this happened on a big scale. Lots of cold air sank, and created a huge sound that could have only been created by a monster so evil that Hell itself vomited it up. I ran screaming out of the bathroom, sans clothing and pride, and soaking wet. Mom and Dad had some friends over, but I didn’t care. I was convinced I was slated for a gruesome death by a Being of Unimaginable Horror. I was only calmed when Mom told me it was pipes. Because I was an unusually smart six-year-old ( ) this made much more sense. The sound never scared me again, but the fear has passed to younger siblings in my family.
I was also somewhat afraid of the opening of Unsolved Mysteries, but I loved that show anyway.
P.S., I’m not sure the above “pipes” phenomenon I described is exactly right. I would appreciate some clarification.
Teapots: I never liked anything that made loud noises. When I was four or so, my mom decided to make tea in this thing and left me alone in the room with it. Suddenly, I hear this noise: FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! And steam starts shooting out of the hole. OMFG, this thing is alive! I was afraid of them until I was about eight and preferred not to look at them.
Whoopee Cushions: Same reason as above: the weird noises. Or maybe it was my crazy uncle Milton who decided it would be funny to put one on my chair when I was five.
Now I think they’re hilarious.
Lawnmowers: Very. Loud. Noises.
My grandfather’s inflatable barber’s pole: Why he had it, I’ll never know. It was one of those things that you could punch and it would stand right up again. So I whacked it. It whacked me back. I refused to get near it for years.
My grandfather’s shoe buffer: I have no idea why I was afraid of this. He never used it and he always left it sitting the corner of his study. I think I was unconciously afraid it would come after me and buff me instead.
There’s a lot more, but I think I’ll leave it at that. I was such a fearful child.
In the building where I attended Kindergarten, we had a cheerful young custodian, an Iowa farmboy who had had his right hand neatly severed at the wrist by a combine. The shock of seeing my very first amputee, plus the location of his supply room (in a dark basement reeking of paste wax), convinced my 5 year old mind that this young man was the bearer of black magic. I began living in dread that I might encounter him around a corner, stump bracing his pushbroom as he whisked and whistled down the hallway (how did he do that???). Luckily, he turned out to be a very nice fellow, always ready with a joke and a smile, and soon put me at my ease.
Not that this has anything to do with my adopting my screenname, but the young custodian’s name was…Doug.
Aw hell, my sisters and I LOVED the carwash. I was always disappointed if we went in and there wasn’t this particular type of brush. We called it the octopus and it was the highlight of the whole experience.
Powerlines? I was always awed by the soaring majesty of them, and it was always disappointing to see wooden ones rather than metal ones. Growing up in ND, we saw those a lot, along with transmission towers, which were cool too.
I also liked thunderstorms too. Tornado sirens, severe weather–it was like waiting for Santa Claus.
But don’t get me wrong, I was freaked out by tons of stuff.
Mummies. I saw one at a museum when I was 5 and I was convinced that there was a similar creature hiding in the space between my bed and the wall. Until I was about 8 I slept on the far 1/3 of my bed.
I wasn’t too fond of religious iconography in the form of paintings, statues, or stained glass windows. Scared the bejesus out of me.
Then there was the line at the bottom of the children’s swimming pool at the Y. God damn. That filled me with the most paralyzing fear imaginable. Just stuff underwater in general got me on edge, but I loved pools anyway.
) this made much more sense. The sound never scared me again, but the fear has passed to younger siblings in my family.
