What's the worst you've ever scared yourself?

In My Humble Opinion
21

Well, two incidents come to mind:

Stupid incident #1:

Years ago I used to live in a ground-floor apartment with a parking space that was located directly in front of my door. Got into my car, realized I’d left my lunch tote inside the apartment, *left my car door open * while I quickly went back inside to retrieve it. Came out a couple of minutes later, got into my car, shut the door and took off.

A few minutes later I had the piss scared out of me when a cat leaped from the back seat into the front seat of the car. Brain shutdown commenced and only pure animal instinct cutting through the yammering terror allowed me to stomp on the brakes and avoid the massive wall of oncoming traffic. When I finished screaming like a little girl, the big-girl obscenities followed. It was like butter!

(I drove back to my apartment complex and let the cat out there. Figured it belonged to someone there. )

Stupid incident #2:

Moved into new house a few years ago. Nice and big, lots of bedrooms, nothing on the walls yet for a few weeks after we moved in. Hubby bought a beautiful, very large deco mirror for the foyer, and mounted it on the wall of the foyer. First place you come to immediately upon exiting the master bedroom is…the foyer.

Late at night a few days after the mirror was mounted, and I woke up needing a good, cold drink of water. I got up, wandered out of the master bedroom and screamed myself shitless when I saw someone else there in the foyer. I turned to run back into the bedroom and ran smack into the wall, landing ass-first on the carpet. As I was trying to sort this all out I looked up and saw **Mr. Storm ** standing over me looking really, really irritated. “What the hell were you screaming about?”

22

Just a few weeks ago, I managed to scare the heck out of myself with a lawnmower.

We have a ranch about 25 miles from here that’s for sale. I hadn’t mowed the lawn in close to a month, so I loaded the riding mower in the back of my pickup and headed on down.

The pickup is a big one, and it sits high off the ground. I normally park it on a hill, facing down, so that the slope isn’t too bad when I drive the mower in. At the ranch, it’s pretty flat, so I just parked it in the gravel on the driveway.

I got everything mowed, and started to drive the mower up the ramp. The angle between the ramp and the bed of the truck was a bit too sharp and one of the blades (no, not spinning) caught on the lip. I had one of those time-stopping moments as the mower slowly rose up on its back wheels and went over backwards.

I tried to extricate myself as the mower twisted and fell, but I ended up on the ground with the mower on top of me. That’s when the “scared” comes into the story.

I was on my back, with one leg pinned under the mower, one hand caught between the steering wheel and the gravel, and one leg in the air. The nearest human being was over a half-mile away. The engine was running, and gas was spilling out onto my leg.

It’s a good thing I’m very big and relatively strong. I managed to lift the body of the mower enough to pull my hand out and shut off the engine. Then I pushed with everything I had until I could slide my leg out partway. Then, with two arms and my free leg, I managed to shove the thing off of me.

I spent five minutes waiting for my heart rate to drop, and then pushed the mower out of the way and drove home without it. From now on, I never take that sucker out by myself.

Hmm. Never heard of a tailypo before. I had to go look it up in Wikipedia. Scary-sounding critters.

23

yeah - apparently, i am the only person i know whose childhood was marred by tales of taileypo. my friend had no idea what i was talking about. nobody else i have ever talked to knows of taileypo.

or maybe everybody else just blocked it out of their memory…
love
yams!!

24

This made me LOL.
I was taking a shower one day when I suddenly realized that you could see my veins very prominently, blue streaks running up and down my arms and legs. I thought, ‘‘What? I’ve never been able to see my veins like this before!’’ It was quite startling, and the more I inspected myself the more I began to see all these dark blue veins in my thumb and the middle of my palm and places I’ve never seen them before.

For some reason all those grade-school stories about ink poisoning started rushing through my head and I became utterly convinced that, because it was possible to see my veins through my skin, I was dying.*

*I have never claimed to be rational about these sorts of things.

Of course, since I was panicked, I then began to feel dizzy and my limbs sort of numbed-out, adding credence to the theory that something was horribly, horribly wrong. I had been having a mild allergic reaction to nickel at the time and in my terror-addled brain I decided the allergic reaction had gone out of control and it was going to kill me if I didn’t get help soon.

Gasping for air, I tumbled out of the shower, wondering if I had enough time to make it to the phone for medical assistance.

But once I was out of the tub, I couldn’t see my veins any more. Once I’d calmed down a bit, I climbed back in the shower–sure enough, there they were again, CRAZY BLUE VEINS FROM HELL!!!

A trick of the light apparently makes my skin appear more translucent in our shower. I don’t know why I suddenly noticed this a year into renting the place, but it scared the bejeesus out of me.

Yep. It’s fun to be me. :stuck_out_tongue:

25

As Captain of the dinning room, (what others call Matre’ D), at the Ahwahne Hotel in Yosemite Nat’l Park in the mid-80s, I often had to walk back to my tent alone at 1 or 2 in the morning.

On one particular night in November 1984, it was pitch black—I literally could not see my hand in front of my face.

Undaunted, I pulled the collar of my tux closed against the cold with my left hand and aimed my rubber soled shoes down the bike path which lead to the first of two turns I needed to make to get back to my tent. I walked with one foot on the path, and one off, so I could go straight. At the end of the bike path, I turned left onto another path which ran across a meadow.

After some 30 yards into the meadow, my right hand swung forward and hit…something furry.

My mind said: “It’s a bear!”

My body automatically reverted to my wrestling/football training: I sprang back a step, feet spread, body crouched, hands in front of me, ‘claws’ at the ready.

I also roared like a lion.

At the very same instant, my mind processed the length and texture of the fur and something about the shape of the animal I touched: the fur was too short to be a bear. It was a flat area with a bit of curve.

It was definitely a deer’s left hip.

I was proud that I had reacted in an aggressive manner, (and not soiled my pants), but I continued my hike home, singing “Oh, Susanna” at the top of my lungs.

26

Fire. I had a model building kit and worked in the basement. I used a bowl of water to wet the decals, and thought of making drops on the surface with glue. I lit the glue and got a cute sort of floating candle.
But when I went to add another drop the flame climbed up to the glue tube. I immediately dropped it and now there was a little puddle of burning glue on the floor. So I stepped on it to put it out, but instead the tube burst and splashed flames all over the floor. Black billows of smoke rose from the asphalt tiles, and me and my sister ran upstairs screaming and sure the house would burn up. But my parents quickly put it out.

27

One night, I woke up in the wee hours having to use the toilet. As I passed the bathroom mirror, I noticed hundreds of white hairs mixed with my normally brunette coif. I seemd to have suddenly gone salt and pepper grey. What could have caused this? What bizarre medical affliction causes sudden onset greyness?

Upon examination, not only were the hairs grey, but they were falling out. In fact, they were also quite a bit shorter than my other hair. And the texture was totally wrong…

Turns out, the dog must have curled up on my pillow at some point leaving copious sheddings behind when she left. I was looking at, and freaking out over, dog hairs. :smack:

The things a not-quite-awake brain can come up with!

28

Ohh, you’re not the only one. I was never regaled with the tales but I read it in a scary stories book when I was pretty young… maybe 8 or 9 and I remember it scaring the crap out of me.

29

One time I was on a walk after midnight, unfortunately just down the moonlit street of my boring suburb. I was in a shaded patch, but it wasn’t pitch black and I realized a large, tall animal was walking straight towards me, and making sort of snorting sounds. I thought it was a deer, so I didn’t roar, but I did move to the side and step behind a mailbox, keeping the mailbox between me and the animal, just as a precaution. As it passed, I realized it was just a fat guy. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I said “I thought you were a deer” and continued on; he said nothing.

But anyway, that wasn’t scary. One thing that was, was I was carrying some assorted paper into my garage for recycling. It was again pitch black; the garage light was off, and there was only minimal night lighting in the house. I was walking down the few steps, and was about to turn on the light when I heard a sort of shuffling noise, maybe six or eight feet away.

Nary a split second later, I heard the same noise again, but it was right by my feet! Real close, like on the next step. My brain figured that whatever had made that sound was moving really, really fast towards me, and I couldn’t see it. It couldn’t be a mouse, it had to at least be a fox or something, or maybe somehow a deer got in there, or a person. I couldn’t move fast enough to get my bare feet out of the way, so I just yelled out loudly in terror, “AHHHHH-ahhhhhhh-ahhh!” I’m not sure I’ve ever yelled exactly like that any other time.

But nothing happened. I retreated up the steps and then leaned in to turn on the lights. What I saw was, two pieces of paper. They had slid out of my arms, and one had sailed some distance while the other apparently just fluttered down to the step below me.

30

Just the other week I was holding a bug zapper in my hand, the kind that looks kind of like this, except the one I was holding used two D batteries. While idly toying with it, and talking with my family guess what happened? Yep, one finger managed to push down the little trigger button, just as my other hand was basically touching the two contacts on the racket. I scared everyone else as well. I yelped and made a gibbering noise for at least three seconds. I also apparently tried to jump out of my skin by flailing any joint that would respond for those three seconds.

Those things can give you a pretty nasty shock. When it’s a surprise, you’re not likely to forget it.

31

Just last week, we were experiencing a terrific heat wave in the American South East.

99° most days.

So, while deodorant and anti-perspirant work as well as they can, I also took to spilling baby powder all over myself before I got dressed, and then in my shoes, and a very liberal spill into my pants front as well.

So I get into work, working away, and at around 11:AM went in for a Pis-stop. I pulled up to the urinal, whipped out “Mr. Big”, and “MY GOD !!!” MR. BIG is SICKLY, DEAD, AND SHRIVELED !!!
Looked like Moby Dick, the Great White Whale, but beached and bleached!

I definitely thought that it was some hither to unknown venereal disease, or maybe some condition caused by all the Hot Wings I had eaten the night before, but after a moment I laughed and remembered the super liberal dose of talcum powder I had poured into my pants that morning, and I realized that me and my friend were still on the go.

A little TLC, some petting, and some massage, and Mr. Big was up again, and ready for action. Whew.

32

My first BMW motorcycle, a 650cc horizontally opposed twin.
First time carrying a pillion, my little brother.
I had been used to high-revving hondas, so it was a revelation to me how it would cruise along at 3-4000 rpm. I’d never had a bike that would do that before and hadn’t learnt about power bands, or to be precise, that my BMW didnt pull from those rpms.
I swept round a well-known curve onto the roundabout over the motorway; you could carry on the curve to the left and descend the ramp onto the motorway itself or veer right around the roundabout, with a raised walkway about 4’ wide and 4-6" high to your left and then a low fence - ie over the fence was a big, big drop down to the motorway.
Normal procedure, with no traffic present, was to sweep round the approach curve dropping the bike to the left, then grab a handful and pick it up and flick over to the right around the roundabout. So I approached as normal, wound open the throttle, and nothing happened. (to be precise, the bike was accelerating but very very slowly…hardly any power at those rpm).
Too far around to change to a left turn, and not enough power to flick to the right…I hit something, don’t know if I glanced off the pavement or actually mounted the pavement and caroomed off the rail. Anyways, was a big thud and a lurch and we continued on our way around.

That was 1984 and I still get cold sweats.

33

Wow! I can’t believe I forgot the biggie in my life (although I’m not technically doing it to myself…) PANIC ATTACKS! I know what they are and what they feel like, but, each and every time, I’m just sure that this is “The Big One.” Terrifying!

Oh, and I absolutely cannot watch Halloween (the original) alone. I will scare myself to death!

34

One day I was using electric hedge trimmers on my front bushes. I knicked the finger on my left hand and instantly my heart dropped into my stomach, I thought for sure my finger was gone.

Nice gash, but it’s all better now.

Don’t even get my started on racing motorcycles and the close calls I’ve had.

35

I was checking lottery numbers. I had written down the my ticket numbers on a piece of paper, and then the winning numbers on another piece of paper and then got distracted. About an hour later, I came back, sat down, took up the piece of paper and logged on again to the lottery website. I compared the numbers on the paper - and they matched the winning numbers. I checked again - matched - every one. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my face got tight - and then thankfully, before I called my boss in to confirm, I realized the reason the numbers all matched is because I picked up the WRONG piece of paper. I picked up the one with the winning numbers I had written down earlier - not the one with my actual ticket numbers on it.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack right up until that moment. I cannot describe the nauseous, sweaty, totally sick feeling I had. It scared me big time - I still get goosebumps typing about it. The jackpot at that time was something like $175 million.

VCNJ~

36

I just scared myself by feeling a “growing mole” on my back that I hadn’t recalled being there. It worried me but it was a long time to my next doctor exam, and so I tried to snip it off with scissors. But instead of a mole being sliced off, blood squirted out of a blood blister. Then I recalled poking myself on some bushes the day before. Whew!

37

One of the biggest on the job frights I ever had was a few years ago when I was looking through a microscope at a Pap smear, and an ant crawled across the slide.

Doesn’t sound like much, but believe me, an ant suddenly crawling across your field of view right in front of your eyeballs, magnified 400 times, is a bit startling.

Doctor’s note: Do NOT try to snip off pigmented lesions (which could be melanomas) or self-operate on suspected skin cancers. It’s not the part you snip off that gets you, it’s the tiny microscopic bits you leave behind that get a chance to grow and metastasize.

Glad this one was just a blister.

38

I’ve been frightened so many times I sometimes think that fright is what defines my life. That if I am not frightened, I am not living right, not experiencing what life has to offer.

Not being frightened=boredom.

It’s crap. The much sought after “adrenaline rush” is fine the first few times. Then it starts to hurt. If you have enough of a cerberal cortex to think about the consequences. “Loss of nerve” I think it’s called.

I’ve already mentioned how I climbed into my freshly completed, untested homebuilt aircraft and flew it, even though I hadn’t flown in 15 years, never flew a taildragger, open-cockpit biplane. It was exhiliarating and scary.

I’ve done skydiving, over 100 jumps, bungee jumps, aerobatic flying.

I’ve driven hundreds of thousands of miles in 18-wheelers, on edge all the time.

Downgrades like “Cabbage”, “Grapevine” the “Three Sisters” “Monteagle” “Donner Pass” “Wolf Creek Pass”.

Scared shitless, most of the time, but still able to function.

I forgot the subject of the thread.

I want to learn to hang-glide. Except for the fear part.

39

Risking TMI here:

One of my co-workers had been diagnosed with colon cancer, and it was pretty much the talk of the newsroom. One afternoon, as I reached down to flush the toilet after … um … using it … I saw what appeared to be several gallons of blood in the toilet bowl. I just froze. It looked like someone had bled out a small animal in there. I had no idea what to do, and as I began to gather my wits about me I decided the last thing I was going to do was retrieve any of it. I flushed, went back to my desk and tried to work. I couldn’t concentrate, and every twitch and burble of my insides seemed magnified a hundredfold. By the end of the day I was convinced I could feel the cancer growing in my bowels.

When I got home I poured myself a stiff drink and told my wife about it. Her face went white, then she started laughing.

The night before, for supper, we’d indulged heartily in a jar of her mother’s pickled beets. It was the first time I’d ever had them. She’d forgotten to warn me that pickled beets don’t change color on the way through.

40

On a related note - consuming store-bought cake with frosting dyed with blue food coloring results in green poop. Can be alarming.

More on that and other fascinating #2-ology here.