What are your real life brushes with disaster?

[Arab Nights (imported)]

I get long winded when telling stories.

I apologize for derailing the thread.

Often I enjoy seeing a thread touch someone enough that they get long winded instead of a perfunctory post.

[kristoff]

I forget where I was headed. I was riding on a large bus. We were going up a hill on the edge of a valley. It was icy and snow covered. The bus slid and tumbled over the edge and rolled down the hill. It ended up at the edge of a small pond. All of us were tumbled like clothes in a dryer. Lots of help arrived very quickly, and we were all whisked off to a hospital to be checked over. Only 1 broken bone, and one who claimed a back injury. Got lucky on this one.

[Losethem (imported)]

I get long winded when telling stories.

I apologize for derailing the thread.

You're fine! I'm kind of curious what some people will come up with. I know when I came up with the idea to ask the question I was thinking more along the lines of crisis averted, in a situation where you found yourself at the location of a significant event which happened later. IE Driving across a bridge 24 hours before it collapses, the photo of the guy and kid who were standing in front of a car in the UK which shortly after had the bomb in the trunk they knew nothing about detonated by the IRA. That kind of thing. There by the grace of (select your deity) I avoided disaster by a day, etc.

[Arab Nights (imported)]

Does falling in love with your first regular piece of ass and then have that person fall for someone else count?

[Losethem (imported)]

Does falling in love with your first regular piece of ass and then have that person fall for someone else count?

At least you didn't end up with needing a shotgun wedding.

[Quickspool (imported)]

I’ve had a couple brushes with disaster throughout my short 25 year life. The closest I ever came to disaster was when I nearly missed a piece of falling concrete on the Richmond Bridge in the SF Bay Area when I visited family there some years back. The piece that fell was the size of a soccer ball and would’ve taken my car out, in addition to likely also taking my head off. I swerved to dodge it at the last minute and the dude behind me was several car lengths back, so he hit the brakes and was uninjured (thankfully). I later found out that falling bits of concrete is not that uncommon on that bridge, but the bit that nearly fell on me was one of the biggest pieces ever to fall. Refuse to take that bridge to this day.

My second brush with disaster was at a car show some years back in San Jose, when the driver of a mid-00’s Ford Mustang tried showing off to the crowd by drifting out of the parking lot and promptly hit a power pole that I was standing directly next to. That pole prevented me from receiving any injuries, but I fear to think about what might’ve been if it hadn’t been there.

[seanthomas (imported)]

It wasn’t long ago I locked myself out of the house for the second time in a month. Muscle memory seems to drive me to unthinkingly just turn the handle lock when I leave. All fine and good when my keys are in my hand. Or, when my wife is inside and I’m keyless. First time I found the upstairs guest bathroom window unlocked and crawled through as the wife laughed her ass off watching my middle aged ass squirm through a window. Second time she was out of town when I went out to coax Ms. Kitty in for the night and found myself locked out again. I’m in flip flops and a bathrobe. No phone. No flashlight. Recalling my recent victory over what I thought was a secure home I got the ladder and climbed up to see if that bathroom window would miraculously have remained unlocked. It wasn’t. Frustrated I started down the ladder but, improperly shod, missed the last rung and fell backwards. The wife’s decorative brick garden border met squarely and forcefully at my mid thoracic spine. I lay there in agony thinking great.....I’m paralyzed now. But I wasn’t. Still in agony I manage to find a thin putty knife and tediously manipulated the latch on a kitchen window. I was sore for over a week. Okay, so not exactly a brush with death but what easily could have been a brush with life in a wheelchair. Now there is a spare key hidden somewhere in the back garden.