Yeah, only when I was in adulthood. It was unsettling, though. I’d spy the outline of a large, vaguely humanlike shape out the corner of my eye in an unexpected place and it would startle the crap out of me. Then my parents would laugh like mad things. It got me every single time.
I got them with it a few times, too, though. One of my best efforts was to put it near their pantry in the garage, slightly hidden until someone would practically step on it. My Dad often retrieved items from there without turning on a light.
It took a couple of days, but one afternoon I heard him yell, “Jesus Christ!!” from the garage.
I recorded that episode, and will have to watch it.
When I was very young, I had a picture/storybook about a little girl. I don’t remember the title, but I remember being terrified of her eyes. When I saw that same book at an antique fair several years ago, and opened it, I knew immediately what this was, and was STILL afraid of those eyes.
My nieces were afraid of balloons, rain coats, umbrellas, saran wrap and garbage sacks.
Oh, and Jello.
Pitiable wails and screaming tears.
Couldn’t take those kids many places.
I don’t know the backstory, but while his behavior was odd in terms of “how do most 10-year-old boys act?” it was not that surprising.
We had already sensed he was probably on the spectrum (a lot of the kids at the school they both attended were, because the school provided excellent services for such kids). Maybe balloon fear is not that uncommon a manifestation. Come to think of it, it makes sense that the loud popping noise would be sensory overload for a kid with sensory processing disorder, so you are probably onto something.
I’ve told this story before, and not quite the same thing, but …
My late wife grew up in the desert southwest where scorpions are common. I also lived in the desert southwest for a bunch of years in adulthood. So by age 50-something we had spent 30 and 20 years respectively being desert rats, seeing scorpions sorta regularly, and routinely shaking out clothes and shoes just in case. They’re ugly things, fast as hell, and their sting is to be respected.
So in our mid-50s after 20 years away from the southwest and scorpions, we move to South Florida. No scorpions here. But the place is crawling with these lizards: curly-tailed lizard - Google Image Search. They’re 4-6" long and utterly harmless. Darn cute actually. But between the tail shape, the prominent legs sticking out the side, and their darting jerky manner of moving, out of the corner of your eye they totally trigger the “SCORPION!” reaction.
We did a LOT of jumping in the early days. It took a couple of years to get used to them, and now I never get startled by them. But it was a “fun” first few months there. NOT!
If I was you I would have been unhappy with the parents for not warning you and checking if there were balloons at the birthday party. And the time you spent removing them took away from the time you needed to host the party.
My dad got my mum a little Tarzan-like figure shortly after they got married. It was about 4 inches high, had a bit of a potbelly and its eyes were fully covered by its unkempt, long hair. Completely harmless.
For some reason it ended up being put away on a shelf in my bedroom. The fact that I couldn’t see its eyes freaked me out, and I got a particularly vivid nightmare with it as a guest star. I woke up hysterical, and sweating profusely.
It wasn’t in my bedroom anymore the following evening.
I don’t know about south Florida, but I got scorpion-stung in Ocala. On my butt. Called the doctor, thinking they were venomous. Nurse laughs at me and says Get a tetanus shot. Da end.
The typical southwest desert scorpion stings aren’t particularly dangerous to an adult’s health. At least in single quantities. But the pain of the experience is not something you’ll ever forget. Take a bee sting and turn the knob up to about eleventy-million.
We had this ancient wooden doll that came from our grandmother’s old house. No paint on the eyes, the face all weathered and cracked, missing the left leg below the knee–honestly it was creepy. My little brotherr was utterly terrified of it.
It stayed in a closet in the hallway, and this particular closet had notably squeaky hinges. If my brother even HEARD those hinges he’d get scared and start crying.
My older sister and I were just awful tormenting him with it and hiding it all over the house. I remember we snuck it under his sheets one day with all his stuffed animals and listened around the corner after he went to bed and heard “HEY what’s this? AIIIIIEEEEEE!”
When I was a wee lad I had a Howdy Doody marionette. It wasn’t scary in and of itself, until the day I opened my toy closet and found something had hit it, put a dent in its head, and knocked the eyes ajar from their sockets.
