I woke up while being handcuffed once.
Full illustrated story here.
Basically, some friends broke into my house and handcuffed me as a practical joke. Then they left to go to breakfast. I escaped before they returned, so hilarity didn’t ensue as they expected. I destroyed their handcuffs, and managed to make it to class on time anyway.
Mine was earlier than that, but the same supplier of bombs. 
When I was about ten, my parents dragged me & my brothers out of bed in the middle of the night and dumped us into our station wagon which was packed tight with as many of our possessions that would fit. After a loooong period of unemployment, Dad had finally gotten a job in Charlotte, so they’d already been planning on moving, but we’d gotten evicted (for several months of unpaid rent) before their plans were finalized. They decided to take off in the middle of the night rather than stick around and let the landlord kick us out the next morning. Spent the next three days with two of my little brothers sitting on my lap. We didn’t have any sort of housing lined up in Charlotte once we got there, so we ended up living out of station wagon for a week until Dad got his first paycheck from his new job. Good times.
sishoch, I’ve done that too. This happened right after I moved to Florida, so it was a giant freakin’ palmetto bug. Bleargh, I hate this place.
I’m also guilty of being a bad waker-upper. I used to get my little brothers out of bed for school in the mornings by administering turbo-wedgies while they slept. They still tell horror stories about that.
Jesus Christ, Q.N. Jones, my sympathies. I got the news of my brother’s death from friends of the family come knocking on my door but at least it wasn’t first thing in the blessed a.m.
The worst that I can think of is my husband shaking me awake early on September 30, 2005, saying, “Honey, you better get up. They are saying on tv that the levees have broken in New Orleans, and your mom and sisters are freaking out.”
The funniest worst is when I was sleeping with one cat right up next to me and another cat fell via misadventure into an open clothes hamper. He knocked the hamper over and freaked out trying to escape, making a lot of noise. The sleeping cat levitated several inches and found purchase for her leap off the bed in the skin of my face, specifically the tender area directly under my left eye. Since I sleep with ear plugs in, I had only heard a loud muffled thump and I had been sleeping very deeply. I woke up feeling like I’d been punched as well as clawed in the face, and I was disoriented as hell. I put on the light and when my hand came away from my face bloody, I staggered out of the bedroom to ask my husband for help, but because I had my earplugs in, I was kinda yelling. He then freaked and thought someone had broken in the bedroom… yeah. It was a wild few minutes. 
I woke up dying about 3 AM on a Sunday once. That was fun. I was dizzy, nauseated, and sweating like crazy. (The sweat didn’t make any sense, it was like February 4th and probably 60 degrees in the house.) Anyhow, I made it to the telephone and called 911 and gave them my address. I got to the first floor, unlocked the door, turned on the porch light and propped my feet up on the stairs to stay conscious. EMS got me to the hospital - it’s sure nice to see those flashing lights approaching when you need them. My sister had an unpleasant awakening that morning, as they called her from the ER about 4 AM and told her to get to the hospital fast if she wanted to see me alive; I wasn’t going to survive this heart attack. But, good EMTs and nurses, good doctors, good medicine, and some good luck worked their magic and on Wednesday they started talking like I had a chance. Three cheers for the strangers who rescue you in the middle of the night!
Waking up hung over as hell at a campsite, groggily taking a huge swig of my half-opened Coke next to my sleeping bag, then realizing about halfway through my guzzling that it was much “fizzier-feeling” than usual…
…then wiping my mouth, looking at my hand, and discovering that it was covered in ants. Then becoming aware of the sensation of ants all over my face, in my beard, on my tongue, etc. Cue my friends watching me flying out of my tent, screaming half naked as I run into the river.
With apologies and condolences to previous posters awakened by more serious matters, I offer the following:
I was staying at a friend’s parents’ house the night before we left for Europe. His little brother had kindly surrendered his bed for my use, so I had a small bedroom all to myself.
I’d never been to this house before.
Sometime around 4:00 in the morning, a freight train passed through their backyard.
Apparently this was quite commonplace. They’d lived with on the edge of these train tracks for years. Nobody in the family even noticed it anymore. Which is why they didn’t think to warn me.
I went from a deep, sound sleep to all-fours-on-the-floor in approx. half a nanosecond. I was actually trying to jump out of my skin, but had missed.
Not me, several coworkers.
We were in Philadelphia for a month-long business meeting; it was March of 2004. About 4am on the 11th, the ones from Madrid got awakened by phone calls from their relatives…
Nobody lost any relatives or friends, but being awakened at 4am-ish by your sobbing wife calling to say “we’re all right, honey, I just talked with your mother and your brothers are all right too” and having to ask “I love you but what the hell are you talking about?” is definitely not good.
That day we were supposed to go to work dressed in “sports supporters clothes” (one of those team-building things Americans like so much, in Spain our idea of team-building is “let’s have dinner together, the company pays”). The Spanish team definitely wasn’t in the mood for it.
I’ve awakened because of an earthquake, but heck, we lived in a 10th floor. If the building was going to come down, it would be before I could get out. So I just turned around and went right back to sleep. No point in breaking your neck on the stairs when you can be aszzzZZZZ…
So, is Ryan all right?
Yes, sorry I wasn’t more clear on that point. When I got to work that morning, there was a note on my computer from our receptionist: “Your Mom just called. He’s OK!” I just sat down and cried.
Unbeknownst to us, Ryan had been transferred to the No. 1 turret for that exercise. Some reports on the tragedy have blamed a lack of experienced personnel in No. 2 turret for the accident. There had been a lot of turnover on the Iowa, and experienced gun crews were broken up and spread around.
Someone upthread mentioned having the sound of the tornado wake you up is a bad thing; waking up as the tornado hits your house at 3:00 am is worse. Thankfully the noise the big tree by our bedroom made as it fell woke me in time for us to get out of our bed a split second before the windows started to break, otherwise we’d have been in bed with the glass, parts of the neighbors’ roofs, tree branches, and other crap that the tornado threw into the room.
We got all the kids to the upstairs laundry room just as the tornado passed on; we only heard it as it left. We then got to hear our across the street neighbor, pinned but otherwise unhurt in his bed, screaming for help. Other than having our houses beat to shit, thankfully the worst thing on our block was a person with a cut leg. No more sleep that night, though.
:eek: 
What in the world were the circumstances behind this?
My sincere condolences to everyone in this thread who awoke to the loss of property, loved ones, or physical well-being.
So, Gukumatz, who wins the contest? My vote is for either pinkfreud’s recovery room fire, ladybug’s swat team, or 3acresandatruck’s heart attack.
With that user name I knew it had to be fowl.
I woke up with a strange yearning for BRRRRAAAAAIIIIIINNNNNS!
My first wife and I were in our first apartment after moving to AZ. It was close to a community college and college row, but there weren’t THAT many students in our complex. One Saturday night/Sunday morning, we’re awakened to SLAM SLAM SLAM against our door, followed by, “Open up, you fuckers. I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
The wife and I have talked about what to do in this situation. She calls 911, grabs her pistol and hies off to the back bathroom. I grab the shotgun and take up partial cover in the hallway.
I yell that so and so has the wrong apartment and that the cops have been called. He keeps kicking. I’ve got such a clear bead on that door that if it opens I’m actually going to see the #4 buckshot leave the barrel.
The cops showed up in something like a minute. There are red and blue lights coming through the window, the sound of heavy feet on the stairs and quick scuffle and a polite tapping on the door. I opened the door, the very nice cop asks if I want to file charges, I say hell yes, he takes the statement and a few pictures of the dents in the door and wishes me a good evening.
Took TWO hours for the adrenalin to completely purge from our systems so we could go back to sleep.
My life is so boring. Thank Og. My worst is Basic Training and the trash can down the quarterdeck. I hope things stay that way.
I’ve got to say, the worst way I ever woke up was in elementary school. I was at a slumber party, it was the middle of the night and I was sleeping on the floor in front of a couch. Apparently the girl on the couch wasn’t feeling well, because she leaned over the edge of the couch and puked right on my face. She didn’t even wake up. The worst part was, I was sleeping so deeply that it took a few seconds for me to realize what had happened. I rolled onto my side and a chunk of something squished under my cheek and then I smelled that horrible, vile, bile.
That was unpleasant!
Middle of the atlantic on a yacht, asleep. We had a bigass spinnaker up, and broached (translation for landlubbers: got side on to the wind unexpectedly) and got knocked flat. No permanent harm done as it was a very well found yacht and we just came slowly back onto an even keel and didn’t even shred the spinnaker.
But being fast asleep and waking up falling and tumbling across the cabin before hitting the bunk on the opposite side, then having stuff from around the cabin rain down on you is a hellava jolt.
I broke up with a g/f, she had been gone about 4 months. I had been dating a beautiful young lady for about 2 of those. The new girl had a key to my apt and we worked opposite shifts alot so the occasional late night appearance was a welcome event.
Silly me never changed the locks
Old g/f a little tipsy decides to show up and surprise me.
Fortunately new girl was not there.
Unfortunately old g/f did not appreciate my groggily murmured little pet name for new girl (new girls name was part of it) as she wandered into the room.
All I was aware of at first was pain like my head had exploded, then another explosion of pain on my shoulder. The the adrenalin valve dumped just as the clock radio in her hand came down on my chest for the third hit.
Realized I’ve already posted to this zombie