# Your Worst Experience of Being Hit On **URL:** \ **Category:** Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share\ **Created:** [January 11, 2007, 5:27pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578 "2007-01-11T17:27:08Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 20\ **Page:** 4
**Author:** ![Malthus](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/m/85f322/32.png) [@Malthus](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Malthus)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 6:30pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/61 "2007-01-12T18:30:03Z")
[QUOTE=Sevastopol] I think some gay men need to meditate on the fact that homosexuality is a minority inclination, a small minority and their courtship behaviour should reflect that. [/QUOTE] Seems to me that following the same basic rules as outlined above ought to work whether one is homo- or hetero-sexual. The one annoying tendancy I sometimes get from my gay friends is the assumption that all guys are really gay, if only they knew it (I guess this is balanced by us hetero’s annoying assumption that everything should cater to hertero norms). On topic, I had one gay friend who severely tested our friendship by repeated offers, along the lines of “I know you are gay, come with me and I’ll set your sexuality free” or suchlike. Would not stop even when told to. I was eventually forced to drastic measures. After yet another such harangue, I point-blank told him as follows: “you know, if I was in fact gay, which I am not, I would choose to express it with someone else - I simply do not find you physically attractive”. It was harsh because it was true. Normally I would never be so nasty, but I was sorely tried. ☹ ---
**Author:** ![OneCentStamp](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/o/13edae/32.png) [@OneCentStamp](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/OneCentStamp)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 6:45pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/62 "2007-01-12T18:45:57Z")
[QUOTE=fluiddruid] Worst started on the bus. A stocky Pakistani or Indian man leaned over and asked me what street we were on. (We were on State Street, the most recognizable street in Madison.) He had bad breath. I told him shortly (but politely), trying to lean away. He ended up following me off the bus and following me around asking me questions, and telling me that “I know you like me by the way you talked to me on the bus.” I repeatedly explained I wasn’t interested. He kept saying the most random things, like “I will take you on a boat ride on the lake if you meet me in front of the Blockbuster Video.” (This was winter in Wisconsin.) He also asked me “How many dates would be needed before we marry?” and “Are you Christian? If so, is ok! I like Christians!” He told me “You are beautiful, like rose!” and then asking me if I would lose weight. He told me I couldn’t work if I was married to him and he wanted to get married right away. All this time, I’m saying “Please, I’m not interested, please leave me alone” and he’s ignoring it. He followed me so long that I started walking around the capital square block in circles rather than lead him to my nearby apartment. He tried to get his hand up my shirt and I batted him away. There weren’t any people around and I was afraid to get too angry with him, as I didn’t want to provoke the situation. He would not leave me alone and all of the businesses were closed so I didn’t really know what to do. Finally I hugged him (ew) as that was the only way to get him to leave. He then showed me his university ID and he was an assistant professor. I thought about pursuing it but really after getting away I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. [/QUOTE] I have the feeling you’re now part of the cast of Borat 2. ---
**Author:** ![Caridwen](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/c89c15/32.png) [@Caridwen](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Caridwen)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 7:17pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/63 "2007-01-12T19:17:59Z")
I’m sorry\*\* fluiddruid\*\* but that’s just about the funniest thing I’ve ever read. One night I was getting gas very late at night and the attendent was a youngish Indian/Pakistani man. He started the gas pump, and came out again when the car was full. After I paid him he asked me if I wanted a “boyfriend”. I think I said “what” a couple times and he pointed to a man standing inside the gas station with a big smile on his face giving a sort of wave. huh?? I couldn’t figure out if this actually ever worked for them, or if maybe they just came to this country and heard American women were wild or something. ---
**Author:** ![Catfood\_Purrito](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/c6cbf5/32.png) [@Catfood\_Purrito](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Catfood_Purrito)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 8:11pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/64 "2007-01-12T20:11:06Z")
I was visiting friends at the college I had attended the year before. I got there a bit early, so I had to kill some time until meeting the main group I was there to see, so I decided to go see if my friend Amit was around. So, I went up to his room and knocked. His roommate answered the door. He was short. REALLY short. Like, the top of his head was about level with my shoulder. I said, “hi, is Amit here?” and he said, “no…but he should be back soon if you’d like to come in and wait.” He was giving me flirty looks, and he was fairly cute, so I was amenable to getting to know him a little until Amit turned up. He motioned for me to sit on his bed (not TOO odd, it was the closest sitting place to the door), I sat down, and he asked if I’d like a beer. I said okay, and he hands me a warm beer from his closet. He asks if I’d like to listen to some music with him…I said sure, and he puts on some Keith Sweat and says, in his best “come hither” tone, “I love to dance…do you love to dance?” and he starts to dance, badly. I was flabbergasted. I knock on my friend’s door, and two minutes later, I’m sitting on a tiny African man’s bed while he’s trying to woo me with seductive dance and I’m drinking his warm Rolling Rock. No conversation, just straight to the sexy dance. It was absurd. I said, “no, I don’t really dance.” He said, “come on, dance with me…” and increased his pelvic undulations. I chugged the beer and said, “actually, I just remembered that I told someone I’d meet them in a couple minutes, thanks for the beer!” bolted for the door, and went to visit my evil ex-roommates. ---
**Author:** ![Sofaspud](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/8491ac/32.png) [@Sofaspud](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sofaspud)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 10:20pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/65 "2007-01-12T22:20:14Z")
My wife and I were visiting some friends in Seattle. They took us to the Capitol Hill district for some fun. SO anyway… we’re hanging out with our friends in one of the local bars. My wife excuses herself to use the restroom and vanishes, we order a few more drinks, watch the attractive couple at the pool table entertain the room with a just-shy-of-illegal game of strip 8-ball (they stopped at the swimsuit level), and so on. Fifteen or so minutes pass and I’m just starting to get concerned when my wife finally reappears, white as a sheet and flustered. She downs the last of her drink in one gulp, grabs mine and chugs about half of it, then collapses in her chair and huddles in on herself like she’s about to be attacked. “What the hell’s the matter?” I say, sympathetic-like. I remember her response, word for word, to this day: “Honey, if I ever bitch about men being perverts again, you have my permission to slap me.” Turns out, she’d been trapped in the bathroom by another woman who just wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer… similar to the stories I’ve seen retold here about men. Now, for myself… later that same night we hit a local club. It should be noted that the friends we were with were (forest-fire-level flaming) gay and were showing us the town. The club we hit was fun, up until it was almost time to leave. I’m taking a break on the upper level, leaning over and watching the crowd, when my ass is grabbed and squEEEEzed. It’s not my wife. I turn around and give the guy my best Raised Eyebrow. “Heyy there,” he says. “I guess you’re not into guys, huh?” “No, not usually,” I reply. “I don’t mind being the girl,” he says with a wink. It’s pretty obvious, in hindsight, that by this time I’ve moved from potential hookup to a ‘poke at the straight guy and watch him squirm’ target. Sheesh. Fortunately, one of our friends saved me. Of course, he did this by slipping an arm around my waist and asking, “Is HE bothering you, sweetie?” Poke. Poke. Poke. I don’t get hit on much (that night in Seattle notwithstanding), so this really is my ‘worst’ experience. I guess I’m just lucky. 🙂 ---
**Author:** ![Jackknifed\_Juggernaut](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/j/9de053/32.png) [@Jackknifed\_Juggernaut](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Jackknifed_Juggernaut)\ **Post date:** [January 12, 2007, 10:34pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/66 "2007-01-12T22:34:44Z")
Once in Philadelphia (~12 years ago): I went to a party at a club/restaurant with friends. As soon as I walked to the bar, this girl (maybe a 6 or 7 out of 10) started staring at me. She was around the corner of the bar area about 15 feet away. My friends very quickly noticed it and began commenting. She wouldn’t stop. Her eyes were locked on me almost like in a trance state. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me or wanted to kill me. I was uncomfortable enough that I went up to her and asked her if she wanted a drink. I had a girlfriend, so I wasn’t particularly interested. But I needed to find out what was the deal with this girl. Her: “I don’t drink alcohol, wanna dance?” Me (trying to add some humor): “I don’t dance, I only drink alcohol.” Her: “Let’s dance.” (It was early and no one was on the dance floor.) Me: “Maybe later.” She grabbed my arm and basically forced me onto the dance floor. Everyone there, maybe 40 people, started noticing. Not wanting to embarrass anyone, I proceeded to the dance floor. Not being a dancer, I put on a few conservative moves about a yard away from her. She then, with one hand, grabbed the belthook of my pants to pull me closer. This of course created a space between my pants and my body. She then stuck her other (very cold) hand down my pants, inside my boxers and started groping. I was shocked. All I heard in the background from the others was: “Holy shit!”, “What the fuck is she doing?” and “Dayyyyammmm.” I grabbed her arm and pulled it out and said: “Gotta go.” I got cheers and a standing ovation from the crowd. She stayed on the dance floor and continued dancing for a couple of minutes and then left, never to be seen again. No one there knew who she was. But damn that was weird. Once in Houston (~8 years ago): I was at this underground dance club at around 4AM. I asked this one guy for a cigarette, since I had run out. IIRC, he resembled Cedric the Entertainer. He gives me a cigarette and then says to me: “You ain’t gay, are you?” Me: “Nope.” Him: “Ever try it?” Me: “Nope.” Him: “I think you should tonight.” Me: “No thanks.” Him: “I’m sure you like getting your dick sucked, right?” Me: “Yes, but only by a girl.” Him: “I do it better than any girl.” Me: “I’ll have to take your word for it. Bye.” As I’m walking away, all I hear is him mumbling something about bullshit this and bullshit that. ---
**Author:** ![eleanorigby](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/ee7513/32.png) [@eleanorigby](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/eleanorigby)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 12:17am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/67 "2007-01-13T00:17:48Z")
OK. First I must say that I am somewhat amazed at the amount of chat that seems to go on in these anecdotes. Or am I the only one who gets the loud smacking kisses noise from young-ish men and the “mmm. mmm. Mmm. You look good, baby!” from old black men? Believe me, there is no dialogue–just me, backing away. I did have two strange come ons–one that really threw me for quite some time and the other that I still wonder about (and not in a good way). The first happened in my physiology lab at CU in Boulder. I was sitting on my stool, minding my own business. We were supposed to look at some material that was being handed around. The TA left the lab for a moment. We all started talking. This woman, who was gorgeous, looked like Vivian Leigh, came over to me, handed me the paper on miosis, grabbed me by the waist, kissed my ear and said, “here ya go, Blondie. Come see me in X Hall.” I just sat there, stunned. I avoided her eye the rest of the semester. She never approached me again. What I can’t get over is someone with her looks-why would she need to do that so aggressively? It was 3pm-no alcohol involved etc. Baffling. I went thru this whole thing like did I somehow send gay signals and what should I tell my long distance BF (I was very naive-this was 1980). The second one was my very first day as a college freshman. I took a tour of the Mall in downtown Boulder with our RA and others on my floor. I was very excited to be in CO. A strange man came up to me; he had a moustache, was a bit older than me, not bad looking, not obviously high–and asked me if I wanted a Boulder handshake. I politely declined. To this day, I have no idea what a Boulder handshake is. I am dying to know (theorectically!). But mostly it’s single inappropriate remarks from old black men. Seriously-I am averaging 3:1 on the ratio of black men to white saying stuff to me. I am 😕 about that as well. I’d take it as a compliment, except that it’s just plain nasty whoever’s doing it… ---
**Author:** ![OneCentStamp](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/o/13edae/32.png) [@OneCentStamp](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/OneCentStamp)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 3:57am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/68 "2007-01-13T03:57:59Z")
[QUOTE=eleanorigby] But mostly it’s single inappropriate remarks from old black men. Seriously-I am averaging 3:1 on the ratio of black men to white saying stuff to me. I am 😕 about that as well. I’d take it as a compliment, except that it’s just plain nasty whoever’s doing it… [/QUOTE] Well, baby, have you by any chance got back? Junk in the trunk? Ghetto booty? As Sir Mix-a-Lot put it, “Ask the average black man what he likes, and he’ll say she gotta pack much back!” Just sayin’, that could explain the ethnic disparity. 🆒 ---
**Author:** ![Velma](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/v/85e7bf/32.png) [@Velma](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Velma)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 4:37am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/69 "2007-01-13T04:37:10Z")
I never got hit on as much as when I was in London. It was seriously _constant_. I have the feeling most of it was from other tourists though, but when I went to clubs it was shockingly bad. I mean guys pressing up on me, groping me, putting their hands in my pants bad. I had friends around me luckily but I could not believe the things that were said to me. As soon as they thought / found out I was American, they immediately thought slut, like stereotypical Pam Anderson type. I quickly discovered what people thought of American women. (again, this was mostly _not_ native Londoners, but other foreign tourists. ---
**Author:** ![Telperien](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/65b543/32.png) [@Telperien](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Telperien)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 4:39am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/70 "2007-01-13T04:39:40Z")
[QUOTE=McNew] Well, can you blame him? Two ladies shopping together in the sex shop must be up for some three-way, right? I mean, it’s in all the best \*Penthouse Forum \* stories… 😉 [/QUOTE] I guess that guy was just lucky our other friend, who also lived with us, wasn’t with us then. His head (either one) probably would have exploded. ---
**Author:** ![brendon\_small](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/brendon_small/32/17101_2.png) [@brendon\_small](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/brendon_small)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 6:24am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/71 "2007-01-13T06:24:10Z")
The wierdest times were probably when I lived at my old college. My roommate was gay, and I am not. This was not an issue, but he dated a lot of guys. There was about one over a week, they would hang out, watch tv, drink a few beers, kiss him, then leave. He wasn’t a slut, but he just met a lot of guys who were interested in him. My girlfriend often hung out with us in the dorm and we didn’t go out a lot, just watched movies and played video games. I can think of one in particular, a guy who lived a few doors over who definitely had a “sexual predator” vibe coming from him. He was on a date with my roommate, and my gf was there. We went to eat and came back and he started casually flirting with me. I kind of brushed it off as no big deal, but he kept being meen to my roommate, so he was asked to leave. I walked downstairs with the two of them, and he stopped at the door and tried to hug me instead of his date. I pushed him away and he left, slightly embarassed. It was a little wierd because he had to know I wasn’t interested from the way I acted, but everytime I saw him after that, he’d try to sit down and talk to me. Everytime he did, he’d hit on me and touch my hands. It was creepy… Another wierd time was right after HS. I graduated and had been spending the summer living at home and working before college. I usually drove up to Columbus for concerts on tuesday nights at a bar I enjoyed. Since I was there for the music, I was sober. Most of the people were not. Twice, a girl followed me three blocks or so to my car before asking me to come visit her house with her boyfriend and “have a good time”…I just couldn’t believe it happened the first time, but 3 weeks later the same girl did it the second time. Hilarious. Brendon ---
**Author:** ![Sevastopol](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/cdc98d/32.png) [@Sevastopol](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sevastopol)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 6:44am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/72 "2007-01-13T06:44:35Z")
[QUOTE=Malthus] Seems to me that following the same basic rules as outlined above ought to work whether one is homo- or hetero-sexual. The one annoying tendancy I sometimes get from my gay friends is the assumption that all guys are really gay, if only they knew it (I guess this is balanced by us hetero’s annoying assumption that everything should cater to hertero norms).( [/QUOTE] Thanks. It bugs me too. Get it right guys: Love you all, but you are in a tiny minority! You just are. ---
**Author:** ![eleanorigby](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/ee7513/32.png) [@eleanorigby](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/eleanorigby)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 12:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/73 "2007-01-13T12:24:15Z")
[QUOTE=OneCentStamp] Well, baby, have you by any chance got back? Junk in the trunk? Ghetto booty? As Sir Mix-a-Lot put it, “Ask the average black man what he likes, and he’ll say she gotta pack much back!” Just sayin’, that could explain the ethnic disparity. 🆒 [/QUOTE] Not in the least. Seriously-- I do not have a large ass. I may have a nice one- I dunno-I don’t routinely check out my own ass. I get this mostly at work–in scrubs, mind you, with only mascara on, from visitors to pts. I think it’s the whole nurse/sex thing. It’s nasty. ---
**Author:** ![Ferret\_Herder](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/f/e47774/32.png) [@Ferret\_Herder](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Ferret_Herder)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 2:43pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/74 "2007-01-13T14:43:45Z")
I’m trying to remember, but this is probably my worst (it’s been many years since I’ve been in the dating pool). I was at this club in Chicago with my then-boyfriend-now-husband, and some friends/acquaintances. This particular club (Excalibur) was divided into different sections, with different kinds of music playing in each. I think one larger club area was playing '80s (New Wave, etc.), and we walked through that into a side area that was playing house and techno. This place was pretty dark, and the music was extremely loud. Even with that, I was just exhausted by a certain point. I’d had maybe one drink, so that wasn’t it; I had a rough week at work and then it was only the day before that one of my ferrets died. I sat down at a little table in a corner and was propping myself up, dozing. Then there’s a tap on my shoulder, and I recognize the outline of my boyfriend out of the corner of my eye; he’s trying to tell me something but between the music’s volume and my slight hearing loss I can’t hear it. He takes my arm and I figure we’re moving to another room. He guides me ahead of him out of the little side-club, hand around my forearm still, and we’re walking through the club, and I’m kind of getting bumped into people along the way. Remember that I’m still exhausted and half-asleep, and so I’m kind of being steered. Suddenly, I realize from the bumping into people that my boyfriend would be more considerate than this, and thus **this is not my boyfriend**. My nervous system kicks in big time here; I’m fully awake and freaked out. In one quick motion I turn my arm in a hold-breaking move and reverse my walking direction, moving fast enough that I barely even saw the guy who had been taking me somewhere, and slipping through the crowd back to the dance floor I’d been at before. I stuck to my boyfriend like glue, and as I suspected, it was dark enough in that part that no one noticed me leave accompanied or that I was gone for less than a minute. I didn’t tell him about this until we left the club, and for good reason; I was right that he’d want to beat up the guy who thought “hey, look, a passed-out chick, what a perfect opportunity!” This dude was lucky that he was of a similar build to my now-husband, otherwise I wouldn’t have left with him. ---
**Author:** ![Muffin](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/muffin/32/4341_2.png) [@Muffin](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Muffin)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 3:17pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/75 "2007-01-13T15:17:53Z")
Toward the end of highschool a girl (I’m a guy) stalked me by telephone – quite graphic and would not take no for an answer. She would call and immediately say what she wanted to do to me sexually, and I would immediately hang up (this was in the days prior to call blocking). One day I was at the top of a 36 foot ladder, painting the house, when my mother came outside with a very strange look on her face, saying that the phone was for me. ---
**Author:** ![Muffin](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/muffin/32/4341_2.png) [@Muffin](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Muffin)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 3:22pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/76 "2007-01-13T15:22:06Z")
Upon being creeped out by a woman trying to pick me up at a small airport, I removed myself to the men’s washroom, figuring that she would not follow me there. That was a good plan until the toilet flooded the the washroom and much of the airport terminal. Just one small part of a very long day. > [@](#): > > Pickle Lake Low by Richard Culpeper > > Do not visit Pickle Lake. It’s really just a matter of Pickle Lake being a negative energy sink. Once you fall into the vortex, about the only way you can pull yourself out is to transfer your bad karma on the next unsuspecting dupe who passes through town. To make a long story short, I was trapped there at the bottom of the well when along came an unsuspecting American. I unloaded my burden on him to such a degree that his plane went down. For those with nothing better to do with the next few minutes, here is the full story. > > Last spring I had a court date in Pickle Lake, which is a small community in northwestern Ontario. I live in Thunder Bay, so normally it is only a short flight. Unfortunately, the Pickle Lake psychic sink struck early, for my staff messed up on the booking. Instead of placing me on the party charter, I was booked for he commercial passenger flight, which involved a transfer and almost twice the flight time. > > When I arrived at the airport, there was a delay of over an hour. Unfortunately, the pilot and co pilot both slept in. They came running through the terminal and out onto the tarmac about forty minutes late, but no sooner were they in the plane than an alarm went off in the terminal, sending the gate staff scurrying about and adding another twenty minutes onto the delay. At the transfer station in Red Lake I missed my connecting flight. While waiting in the terminal, a woman sat down with a couple of fellows at the table beside me. She said to them in a loud voice that she had just been promoted the previous week (she was a nurse in Osnaburgh we’ll get to what that entails later). Yesterday she had bought a truck. Later today she was to make a down payment on a house. Then she turned her head, looked directly at me, and said that the next think on her list was to find a man. > > Having a keen sense of survival, I retreated to the men’s washroom. Unfortunately, a valve broke when I flushed, which flooded out the entire washroom and a fair bit of the terminal. I spent the next couple of hours in a very nervous state. Eventually the connection to Pickle Lake arrived. Aside from the bobsled run down the Red Lake taxi way (a steep hill with a couple of tight curves), the flight was uneventful. When I arrived at the Pickle Lake terminal (a small steel shed), I was unable to use the telephone because it did not accept money too many thefts, so the gas guy (the fellow who refuels the planes) kindly called in to town for the police to come and pick me up. > > It took quite a long time for the officer to arrive. When he finally showed, he explained that the cracked windshield and mud on the sides and roof of the 4x4 were due to a shortcut he had taken when he received the call to pick me up. A delay had been incurred when he had to radio for a friend to pull him out of his ‘stuck’. > > I arrived for court just as it broke for lunch, which was just as well, for my client’s circumstances had changed without his notifying me. The deal that had previously been arranged with the Crown was on hold due to my client facing half a dozen new charges. Unfortunately, no one quite knew what the charges were, so my client and I hiked on up the road to the police station (no ride was available, for my driver had to pull out the fellow who earlier had pulled him out of his ‘stuck’). Between the officer at the station, myself and my client, we eventually figured out what all the new charges were about, so we hiked back down to the community hall to face the judge. > > Well, things were not too pretty in the hall. The judge was a bit miffed because a busload of defendants from the nearby community of Osnaburgh (where the nursing station is surrounded by barbed wire) failed to show. The bus arrived full of people who wanted to visit the grocery store and the liquor store, rather than full of defendants. It seems that when the folks at Osnaburgh heard that there was a bus going into town (usually there is none), they did not understand why only the criminals should be allowed on it, so they tossed the bad guys off, and took their places for the free ride into town. The shoppers were happy. The bad guys were happy. Only the judge was not happy, but no one really cared too much for him anyway. > > The result of this was a further delay while the Osnagurgh mess was straightened out. Eventually the bad guys arrived, but they were pretty drunk by that time of day. The folks who had shanghaied the bus ambled in, but they were also quite drunk following their visit to the liquor store. There were no extra police available to deal with the matter, for they were off dealing with the stuck vehicles. Things eventually settled down, but the delay made me miss the outgoing party charter back to Thunder Bay, and again I had to fly the milk run via Red Lake. To add to my misery, I had to wait at the airport shed for a couple of hours. Just me, the gas guy, and the ticket girl upon whom the gas guy seemed to have a crush. > > I was frustrated; I was tired; I was bored. I was also a little disgusted by the gas guy’s behaviour toward the ticket girl. I was not just under a cloud, I was under the Pickle Lake depression. I was trapped in this shed in the middle of nowhere, and I knew that I would remain there until I transferred my cloud to someone else. I reached out, trying to make a psychic connection to my family and friends in hopes that they could find me and rescue me. In particular, I reached out for a friend, Karen Smith of Gaia’s Garden, who is a wicce of the White Goddess with neo Buddhist leanings who has some inside knowledge on navigation ([http://www.tbaytel.net/culpeper/NavicularGynoecium.html](http://www.tbaytel.net/culpeper/NavicularGynoecium.html)), and my cousin Nadine’s hubby Ray, who sits at the top of the world with all sorts of electronic equipment. > > It worked. No sooner had I psychically reached out than a wee plane flown by an American landed. Then another, and another, and finally an old Stinson biplane. A big smile grew across my face, for I knew that my karma was soon to transfer away from me onto these poor unsuspecting tourists. They were loud and friendly and ridiculously over dressed. They obviously had no idea of the negative vortex into which they had descended. I had a moment of doubt upon learning that their photographer was a Canadian, but all was well when out from under his big fur hat (it was shirt sleeve weather) he said that he had been in California for many years. > > While the gas guy filled their tanks, the group chatted with me as I quietly let my bad karma bleed onto them. Their story was that the fellow in the biplane intended to fly to the north pole and back, while the ex Canuck filmed him for National Geographic. I wished them luck as I left the hut for my flight, knowing full well that the only reason my flight had finally arrived was because these poor Americans had now inherited my bad dross and no longer had any chance what so ever of making it to the pole and back. Obviously I did not tell them this. I just smiled, gave a verbal ‘good luck’ to the Americans, and a silent ‘thank you’ to my family and friends whose energy had pulled me out of the hole known as Pickle Lake. > > Remember my mentioning my cousin’s hubby Ray? Well, for about four months each year, Ray LeCote runs the Eureka meteorological station. I guess the electromagnetic reception up there must be pretty good, for he sure picked up on my calling out for help from Pickle Lake. When the Americans arrived at his station, they needed some gas, but had not made any previous arrangements. Ray had a drum of aviation gas that was about a decade old, but there was water in it due to condensation. He explained that if they wanted it they could have it, but they would have to filter it before using it, and sign a release to that effect. The release was signed and the National Geographic film crew recorded the final tanking up of the biplane. Note that I make no mention of the film crew recording any filtering. The pilot pumped directly from the barrel into the biplane without filtering, and National Geographic was there to capture every moment on film. > > Surprisingly, the biplane made it to the pole, and even made it part way back to Eureka before it went down. When the pilot was eventually returned to Eureka he was pretty miffed at Ray. He hollered and swore and threatened to sue (talk about matching a stereotype) because the bad gas caused him to crash land and abandon his plane. Now Ray is a pretty smart fellow, and certainly not one to get in a flap. He saw that the American was trying to shift the Pickle Lake cloud onto his shoulders, and he was having none of it. While the American was making legal threats, Ray pulled out his ticket book, and proceeded to charge the pilot for polluting by leaving the plane out there in the middle of nowhere rather than bringing it back to Eureka. > > Eventually the plane was recovered. Ray figures it cost the fellow an additional $25,000. I figure that crash and the cash are just at the tip of the iceberg for the polar pilot, for until he realizes that the Pickle Lake low is over his head, he is in for some very rough times. > > Like I said, avoid Pickle Lake. ---
**Author:** ![Muffin](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/muffin/32/4341_2.png) [@Muffin](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Muffin)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 3:30pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/77 "2007-01-13T15:30:30Z")
Not that it matters, but the bad link above ([http://www.tbaytel.net/culpeper/Nav...Gynoecium.html](http://www.tbaytel.net/culpeper/Nav...Gynoecium.html)) is now fixed as: [Navicular Gynoecium](http://my.tbaytel.net/culpeper/NavicularGynoecium.html) ---
**Author:** ![HazelNutCoffee](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/h/ac91a4/32.png) [@HazelNutCoffee](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/HazelNutCoffee)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 6:08pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/78 "2007-01-13T18:08:50Z")
I was at a club in Scotland, with a bunch of people from my summer literature program. It was a busy night - right around the time of the Fringe festival, so the place was packed with people. Some guy from South America (he told us later where he was from, but I can’t remember the particulars) walked up to my friend and asked her to dance. My friend (“Kelly”), who was rather drunk at this point, nodded her head but gave me a “please come with me!” look. So the three of us are on the dance floor, and the guy is trying to get way too close for Kelly’s comfort, when all of a sudden we find ourselves surrounded by two more guys (his friends, it turns out). They press in against us so it becomes impossible to break free without creating a huge fuss, and then I find that one of them has started groping my ass while another starts rubbing himself against Kelly. I try to convey to her that perhaps we should try and extract ourselves from this unpleasant situation when suddenly she grabs me by the waist… …and starts kissing my ear. So here I am, in the middle of a crowded dance floor, being groped by some gross dude behind me, while my friend has somehow decided it would be a good idea for us to make out at this point (I’m straight, for the record, and oddly enough, so was Kelly). Of course, I was rather drunk at this point as well, so it was hard to think straight in the midst of such chaos. I somehow managed to drag my friend off the dance floor and away from those creepy guys. “Erm… are you okay?” I ask her cautiously. “I thought if they thought we were lesbians, they’d leave us alone,” she explained. “:dubious: Right. Like two women making out are totally going to turn those douchebags off. They’ll be running for the hills in horror, I expect.” That wasn’t even the end of it. Two of the three guys followed us to our seats and plopped down on either side of us, practically drooling into our laps. When I grabbed my bag to go, one of them grabbed my arm, pulled me towards him and attempted to stick his tongue down my throat. Fortunately, when I started making a big enough fuss that other people were turning to look at us (and in a club that crowded and noisy, that is saying something), the cretin decided it wasn’t worth it and let me go. God, what a night that was. ---
**Author:** ![supervenusfreak](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/45deac/32.png) [@supervenusfreak](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/supervenusfreak)\ **Post date:** [January 13, 2007, 7:15pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/79 "2007-01-13T19:15:45Z")
[QUOTE=Malthus] The one annoying tendancy I sometimes get from my gay friends is the assumption that all guys are really gay, if only they knew it (I guess this is balanced by us hetero’s annoying assumption that everything should cater to hetero norms)… [/QUOTE] I have friends like that. Usually these are the same guys who make faces whenever female body parts are mentioned. My position? Respect my sexuality and I will respect yours, whatever that may be. My tale? Many moons ago, I worked as a clerk in an adult bookstore, in our small city here. Those of you who know me personally, know that I can be a rather imposing figure when I need to be. (Think of a younger bolder Alfred Hitchcock). Needless to say, I did not get hit on too much (or notice if I did), but there is one occasion that sticks out in my mind. One of the “semi regular” customers was a man in his late seventies, who was also one of my former Sunday School teachers. His wife was the church organist, and sometimes when she had to be at the church for meetings, etc, he would traipse on down to the bookstore for some fun, ie hitting on guys until he was turned away. I didn’t have too much of a problem with it, until he turned his attention to me and would not take no for an answer. He would follow me around the store, asking questions about my family, and my life in general, then make these sideways leering comments about how he never got enough sex at home and how he would be so grateful if something like that would happen… ick. At first I was nice and polite, but he was still hitting on me, and trying to touch me. So I had to be more direct. I wondered aloud how his wife and daughter would feel if they found out his dirty little secret. He stopped doing it, then and there. ---
**Author:** ![descamisado](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/e480ec/32.png) [@descamisado](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/descamisado)\ **Post date:** [January 14, 2007, 11:00pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578/80 "2007-01-14T23:00:26Z")
[QUOTE=Sevastopol] I think some gay men need to meditate on the fact that homosexuality is a minority inclination, a small minority and their courtship behaviour should reflect that. [/QUOTE] One time (in band camp), thirty years ago, this gay guy said hi to me, in a very friendly manner. I was traumatized, my life was destroyed and, to this day, I can barely leave the house. [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578.md?page=3) [Next page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/your-worst-experience-of-being-hit-on/387578.md?page=5)