Near Death Experiences, Close Calls and Crazy Shite

[badnews]

@Loyal gave us a great thread to share some rather twisted stories and it made me want to open up another one for posters to share their close calls or craziest moments.

Disclaimer - I realized I have a lot of crazy stories, some that others might find interesting and some that others might find hard to believe. I do worry that sharing too many of my stories will give off the wrong impression. I have lived a very good life and am the luckiest guy on Earth imo, so please don't mistake my posts about my wife's condition or my childhood experiences or close calls as someone singing the blues about their "hard life". I don't feel that way. I have been super fortunate throughout and I have no more regrets or hang ups than most.
I will start on the next post.

I hope to get some good participation. Should make for some interesting reading.
Anyone should share anything they feel even loosely fits the criteria: NDE, close calls, crazy shit, etc.

 

[badnews]

Growing up in Missouri means growing up about as far from the ocean as possible. I knew the words "rip-tide" but had no idea what that really meant or at the least didn't appreciate the threat enough.

In the fall of 2004, 4 different hurricanes made landfall across Florida in a six week span. The theater I worked at in Branson closed suddenly and so that same day I joined a company from KC doing commercial disaster relief and remediation. I packed up my bag, kissed my girls and left for Florida with my best friend, Josh. They promised $20 an hour to run labor crews. We could work 60 hours a week and I could send the money home to my wife and daughter so I jumped on it.
The company was spread all over the state at first and Josh and I were sent to a blownout Hilton on Destin Beach. Our job was to remove anything damaged by water or wind and to dry out the rooms. For the 1st 10 days we would look out the windows to the beautiful beaches below but we never had any time off to get in.
Eventually one morning we had time and we went out and jumped in the water without even thinking about it. The water came up to my chest and as the waves got bigger and swept us off our feet, Josh and I lost sight of each other. I noticed after that last big wave that I couldn't touch the bottom anymore, so I went down to touch and before I did the pressure got bad. Somehow the sand beneath was 20 or 30 feet below. I was in pretty decent shape and I started swimming to shore. I could see Josh walking on the beach looking for me, but he never saw me. I tried yelling to him but the roar of the waves just swallowed my sounds. I could barely hear myself.
I put my head down and really started pumping my legs and arms. I gave it my absolute all. After a bit I stop and see I am even farther from shore. Worse, I see Josh's back as he walked towards the hotel. He had no idea and thought I must have went back in. Now there was no one else around to see me and I was totally alone.
I put my head down and started swimming like my life depended on it, because it did. I exerted myself in a way that can only be described as that of a husband and father desperate to see his wife and little girl again. I pumped man, I gave it my all and then dug deep, found more and gave that too.
No use. I was now between 80 and a 100 yards from safety and only going backwards. I grew up on lakes but I had no clue about how to save myself in this situation.
My effort was now depleting the oxygen in my body, my heart rate must have been out of control and I was losing my buoyancy.
This was it. I had fucked up and now will die alone, a thousand miles from home. I could literally see my girls faces and I could see them at my funeral, then the cliche but totally real thing happened where I could see my life story play out before my eyes. This was my fate. This was always my fate. I hated that I was dying for such a stupid reason. What a stupid way to go. I was summoning all of my courage and decided I didn't want to die panicking. I was accepting my fate. I was no longer swimming towards the beach, I was just barely able to do enough to get my nose and mouth above water for occasional breaths. The panic had subsided with my acceptance and because of that, in my final moment of prayer, something in the sky caught my eye. 2 things actually. They were 2 P-51 Mustangs. My dream aircraft. I had never seen one in the air, let alone two. They were just taking a joy ride above the coast, playing like big winged dirt bikes in sky.
For a split second, my mind went away from my impending death. The thought in my head was "Oh cool, P-51's!!"
Somehow, by the grace of God, this unlikely distraction changed everything. I had no more panic, just calm and something inside me said "let go and float" and like those team building exercises where you lean back until you fall in someone's arms, I let go and just leaned back and.. I floated. Barely enough for my nose to breathe without snorting too much water, but I was floating.
I no longer cared where the beach was or which direction I was floating. My leg muscles had reached that point of muscle failure and pain where, if you can push through it, you can break through the normal boundaries and become a machine capable of inhuman feats of endurance. My body was perfectly still except for my legs which just kept going enough to keep me moving.
Eventually I washed up nearly a mile down the beach.
Once I was out of the water I started coughing and puking up the seawater I had ingested. By the time I had made it back to the Hilton, I was borderline delirious from the exhaustion and adrenaline crash.

The next day my legs were DEAD. I had played football and some soccer, I used to lead my JROTC class in PT (physical training) and had experienced brutal marches at Fort Leonard Wood - nothing, not two a days or PT ever even compared with how sore my legs were for the next week.

Ever since this experience, P-51's have been my version of guardian angels.
I have planned on getting a tattoo of one on my arm.... if I ever need a miracle or just some calming perspective, I could look at it and gain some extra perseverance.

One week later, on my 24th birthday, Josh and I drove a van with a trailer full of gas from Destin to Vero Beach and straight through hurricane Jean.
It was the scariest, longest, most white knuckled drive of my life... but thats another story...

 

[Mister Sin]

I am with you. I have lived a crazy life. People that know me have told me many times how they feel bad for me. Ive never once felt bad. Bad shit has happened and I've grown from it. I dont dwell on it. And I got a few good stories to tell in the process.


Near death--it was two days before High School graduation. I had just purchased a new car one week earlier. My first manual transmission. It was a red Dodge Daytona Shelby. It was a pretty slick car, I thought. The seniors were off school the final two weeks before graduation and I was at my friends house about 15 miles out of town. We had decided to head to town for whatever reason. There were four of us. My friend Nick drove a shitty little S10 and darted out of his driveway with one of our friends trying to beat me to town.

I had my friend Peter with me and I gunned it. In no time I had hit 90 and was almost caught up as we rounded a corner headed up hill a cop had a van pulled over. There was no shoulder so they were in the road. I hit the breaks...way too hard, as an unexperienced driver would. And started to spin in donuts. As the car drifted sideways it began to roll. I can recall it like it was yesterday. I had no seat belt on but my friend did. I can remember the moment the windshield shattered. I held on with everything I had. It rolled 4 times and landed right side up across a ditch. The CD was skipping like when Millie Vanillie got caught. It was "Head Strong" by trapped....afterwords I thought it was funny. The song had just came on and it was saying "circling circling circling..."....as the car was rolling.

My friends seat belt actually broke and he dislocated his shoulder and had to wear a sling for a bit. I had a tiny scratch on my forearm that didn't even draw blood. Walked away perfectly fine. Car was fucked. I lost my speakers out of the back hatch somewhere along the way. Never did find them. Spent some money on them too.

Ive never not worn my seat belt since. And I probably will not allow my kids to get their licenses until I'm positive they are ready.

 

[badnews]

I am with you. I have lived a crazy life. People that know me have told me many times how they feel bad for me. Ive never once felt bad. Bad shit has happened and I've grown from it. I dont dwell on it. And I got a few good stories to tell in the process.


Near death--it was two days before High School graduation. I had just purchased a new car one week earlier. My first manual transmission. It was a red Dodge Daytona Shelby. It was a pretty slick car, I thought. The seniors were off school the final two weeks before graduation and I was at my friends house about 15 miles out of town. We had decided to head to town for whatever reason. There were four of us. My friend Nick drove a shitty little S10 and darted out of his driveway with one of our friends trying to beat me to town.

I had my friend Peter with me and I gunned it. In no time I had hit 90 and was almost caught up as we rounded a corner headed up hill a cop had a van pulled over. There was no shoulder so they were in the road. I hit the breaks...way too hard, as an unexperienced driver would. And started to spin in donuts. As the car drifted sideways it began to roll. I can recall it like it was yesterday. I had no seat belt on but my friend did. I can remember the moment the windshield shattered. I held on with everything I had. It rolled 4 times and landed right side up across a ditch. The CD was skipping like when Millie Vanillie got caught. It was "Head Strong" by trapped....afterwords I thought it was funny. The song had just came on and it was saying "circling circling circling..."....as the car was rolling.

My friends seat belt actually broke and he dislocated his shoulder and had to wear a sling for a bit. I had a tiny scratch on my forearm that didn't even draw blood. Walked away perfectly fine. Car was fucked. I lost my speakers out of the back hatch somewhere along the way. Never did find them. Spent some money on them too.

Ive never not worn my seat belt since. And I probably will not allow my kids to get their licenses until I'm positive they are ready.

@Juggs hey dude! Thanks for jumping in. Wow man yeah, you're extremely lucky to walk away from that. It reminds me of how often it seems like a car load of high-school seniors passes away around graduation. It happens too much around here. It's seems like you and your buddy were supposed to be those kids in your class, but somehow weren't. Crazy.

It also reminds me of two friends in HS who both had brand new (to them) cars. One was a new Wrangler and the other a classic remodeled chevelle. Both had these new cars less than a week when they saw each other coming on a backroad and played chicken. They both swerved in the same direction and totaled both cars. Since they were both okay, it was hilarious. They are probably both still stupid though...

 

[Mister Sin]

This was the identical looking car....didn't look this way when done...

And yea, I've thought many times that I should have probably been that statistic. God was looking over me that day.

 

[cvramsfan]

They were 2 P-51 Mustangs. My dream aircraft. I had never seen one in the air, let alone two. They were just taking a joy ride above the coast, playing like big winged dirt bikes in sky.

There used to be an outfit that traveled the country with a 2 seater P51 that you can fly, yes they let you take the controls. I almost did it once but the day was about my late father-n-law and I did not want to take the spotlight from him. Maybe someday soon I will get another chance.

 

[Loyal]

Ok guys, I'll play.
It was summertime in 1971 when we started our trip to Hollywood, Florida from Los Angeles. We had a favorite Great Uncle and Aunt who had invited us to visit them and it was an exciting thing. My Dad had a fairly new F-150 truck and he bought a 4-Star camper for it. My parents loaded it with food, which included a block of ice for the ice box/refrigerator. My Dad was a fan of Coors beer and so he was stocked up with that.

It was hot and we were travelling down route 66 toward Winslow, AZ. They had recently repaved the road and then there was a sudden storm when the truck started to fishtail. I was 7 years old and sitting between my parents up front. My two sisters were playing cards at the table in the camper. The rear window of the truck had been removed and customized so that it was easy to communicate with those in the camper. I still remember Mom pulling a tab from a fresh can of Coors and passing it over me to my Dad as he drove (yeah).

As I said, the rear of the truck started to fish tail and my Dad struggled to control the wheel before going sideways in the median and we rolled several times. We came to a stop on the truck's side and miraculously, no one was hurt. My sisters were narrowly missed by that beforementioned block of ice as it flew from th e ice box. People stopped and helped us climb from the upturned side door. People were trying to give us aspirin for some reason, but all I remember was seeing the debris from our wreck for 100 feet. I remember my Mom bending down and picking up empty Coors cans and putting them in her purse before the cops came. Later, they would say that my Dad bent the steering column when he tried to control what was happening. They towed the truck/camper to a hotel that we stayed at in Winslow afterwards, and I remember Dad giving away all of our food to local Indians because it would spoil anyway if he didn't, and one gave us a piece of petrified wood from the nearby petrufied national forest.

We thought our vacation was over, but Uncle Lew came through. He wired my parents money and we took our first Greyhound trip to Florida. My luck was that it was just a few months before Disney World would open (SONOFA!!). It was fun. When we flew home, it was on Pan Am airlines. When we were in the sky among the clouds, I looked over at my Dad and said,

"Will we see Jesus today?"

He said quickly, "I hope not, son."

 

[badnews]

There used to be an outfit that traveled the country with a 2 seater P51 that you can fly, yes they let you take the controls. I almost did it once but the day was about my late father-n-law and I did not want to take the spotlight from him. Maybe someday soon I will get another chance.

Yeah man I have seen that come around before. Might be a bit pricey but someday I hope to do it!

 

[badnews]

Ok guys, I'll play.
It was summertime in 1971 when we started our trip to Hollywood, Florida from Los Angeles. We had a favorite Great Uncle and Aunt who had invited us to visit them and it was an exciting thing. My Dad had a fairly new F-150 truck and he bought a 4-Star camper for it. My parents loaded it with food, which included a block of ice for the ice box/refrigerator. My Dad was a fan of Coors beer and so he was stocked up with that.

It was hot and we were travelling down route 66 toward Winslow, AZ. They had recently repaved the road and then there was a sudden storm when the truck started to fishtail. I was 7 years old and sitting between my parents up front. My two sisters were playing cards at the table in the camper. The rear window of the truck had been removed and customized so that it was easy to communicate with those in the camper. I still remember Mom pulling a tab from a fresh can of Coors and passing it over me to my Dad as he drove (yeah).

As I said, the rear of the truck started to fish tail and my Dad struggled to control the wheel before going sideways in the median and we rolled several times. We came to a stop on the truck's side and miraculously, no one was hurt. My sisters were narrowly missed by that beforementioned block of ice as it flew from th e ice box. People stopped and helped us climb from the upturned side door. People were trying to give us aspirin for some reason, but all I remember was seeing the debris from our wreck for 100 feet. I remember my Mom bending down and picking up empty Coors cans and putting them in her purse before the cops came. Later, they would say that my Dad bent the steering column when he tried to control what was happening. They towed the truck/camper to a hotel that we stayed at in Winslow afterwards, and I remember Dad giving away all of our food to local Indians because it would spoil anyway if he didn't, and one gave us a piece of petrified wood from the nearby petrufied national forest.

We thought our vacation was over, but Uncle Lew came through. He wired my parents money and we took our first Greyhound trip to Florida. My luck was that it was just a few months before Disney World would open (SONOFA!!). It was fun. When we flew home, it was on Pan Am airlines. When we were in the sky among the clouds, I looked over at my Dad and said,

"Will we see Jesus today?"

He said quickly, "I hope not, son."

Great story and yeah, I remember when one for the road was an actual thing... different times.

 

[Memento]

My last suicide attempt (June 1st, 2015) was the closest I came to dying. I purposely fell off of a bridge (I was going to choose the highway, but I didn't want to hurt anyone...so I chose a bridge not too far from it with no traffic.

I still remember all of the hallucinations I had while under the knife. (I had broken two bones in my back, my right hip was flayed out, my left leg had torn ligaments, and according to the words of a doctor later on, my right foot looked like a bomb went off in it, along with the ligament damage in my right leg.) I mostly remember seeing nothing but a black void - and I figure that's where I'm going to go when I die. Either it's hell...or nothing.

There were other trippy hallucinations as well, things that I knew were false, but I couldn't help but go along with them. They weren't bad...aside from the constant pain.

 

[badnews]

My last suicide attempt (June 1st, 2015) was the closest I came to dying. I purposely fell off of a bridge (I was going to choose the highway, but I didn't want to hurt anyone...so I chose a bridge not too far from it with no traffic.

I still remember all of the hallucinations I had while under the knife. (I had broken two bones in my back, my right hip was flayed out, my left leg had torn ligaments, and according to the words of a doctor later on, my right foot looked like a bomb went off in it, along with the ligament damage in my right leg.) I mostly remember seeing nothing but a black void - and I figure that's where I'm going to go when I die. Either it's hell...or nothing.

There were other trippy hallucinations as well, things that I knew were false, but I couldn't help but go along with them. They weren't bad...aside from the constant pain.

Wow. I just hope you've found some peace in this life. And I am very glad that you are here now, making this place great.

 

[Selassie I]

The very 1st time that my friend and I took his boat over to the Bahamas could have easily been the end of me... it really should have been the end of me. When I think about it, I know that I used up all of the luck that I'm ever going to have.

My friend Paul and I were pretty hard-core with our fishing and diving. Almost every weekend, and sometimes during the week, we would be out trying to kill some seafood for ourselves. We really had no fear and we were rebels when it came to following all the rules... when we were out on, or under the water, we felt like we decided what our rules were. Even though we were grown ass men... we were just boys being boys.

We decided that we were going to take his boat over to a very remote island in the Bahamas that is known for it's great fishing and diving. It's 140 miles one way across the Atlantic from where we were leaving Florida. The island is not a tourist destination... it doesn't even have cars or real roads. The waters around it are completely unspoiled and unbelievably loaded with marine life. It's an adventure just making the trip over on your own. I had done it with my Grandfather on his sportfishing boat (much bigger boat than my friend's) when I was young, but this was the 1st time for either of us doing it by ourselves. We also brought my brother-in-law along who is a marine biologist.

When we got there we couldn't wait to go diving the next day and spear some serious shit. We talked to the locals that night and they were telling us about the sharks there and how to deal with their aggression. We thought they were just being super protective and over reactive about the sharks. They seemed scared to death of them and many of them wouldn't even get in the water because of their fear. Paul and I dove with sharks in the water all the time and we respected them... but we were definitely not fearful of them. Bottom line... we thought the locals were bitches when it came to sharks.

If you aren't a Bahamian... you are not allowed to use a tank if you are going to spear sealife. You have to free dive if you want to kill something. Bahamians are allowed to though because that's how many of them make a living. Nobody is allowed to use spearGUNS. You can use Hawaiian slings and polespears... but no guns as they feel it is an unfair advantage. Well... like I said, Paul and I didn't like to follow rules back in those days.

We headed out the next morning straight to the reef. On the top of this reef the water was only about 4 feet deep and it is a massive structure. You can literally walk across the top of it for like 50 yards going east before you reach the point where it drops off into the depths very fast. It went from 4 feet of water and instantly dropped off to like 200 feet+... almost like a cliff. The tide was going out so the current was moving east along the top of the reef and into the deep water. When you were on top of the reef the current was hard to deal with, but down past the drop-off the current was kinda blocked the deeper you went down.

Paul and I brought out tanks... and we had spearguns. My brother-in-law was only free diving though and he stayed up on top of the reef killing bugs while Paul and I went down off the drop-off. There were giant snapper all around me and I couldn't believe my eyes. I lined up a big slob of a snapper and pretty much stoned his ass with a perfect shot from my gun. The fish was at least 35 - 40 pounds. I started making my way back to the boat to put it on ice... I had to work against the current and it was a bitch. Once I got up on top of the reef I could kinda walk against the current. To swim against it you would have had to be aqua man. So I was making slow steady progress back towards the boat.

My brother-in-law swam over and couldn't believe how big that fish was. He checked it out for a minute and went back looking for more bugs as I continued to walk back to the boat. A few minutes later I notice that my brother-in-law was making some weird movements on top of the water and he was kinda spinning around like he was looking for a fish that may have escaped. He was like 25 yards away from me. He was coming my way with his face down in the water so he could see whatever it was that he was after. He got to about 10 yards from me and he was pointing towards me with his snorkel in his mouth making loud noises. That's when I saw a fin come out of the water between me and him. I put my mask back on and looked under the water to see what kind of shark it was. I wasn't the least bit concerned at the sight of the fin, but when I looked under the water I was pretty shocked. It was a massive bull shark. MASSIVE.

The damn thing had apparently made a few aggressive charges at my brother-in-law... that's when I had seen him making weird fast movements. He was stabbing at that beast with his polespear to fight it back away from him. The shark smelled the fish blood in the water and he figured out that my brother-in-law didn't have it... that's when the shark started heading directly to me. It started circling me and arching it's fins and back in a very aggressive display. I knew he wanted the fish he was smelling... and he was gonna get it.

The spear shaft had a tip on it with these pop out fin things that are designed to pop out and prevent the fish from coming off of the spear. It is easy to deal with in the boat... but I needed this fish off that spear immediately. Removing it the way I was trying to do it NEVER works... but this shark was getting closer and closer in his circling of me and he was fucking visibly pissed. I didn't have much time. Maybe just seconds before this beast of a bull was probably gonna come in hot and start biting everything including me. He had enough of the circling and he started making a bee-line right at me. I was still attempting to get that fish off the spear. I was convinced that I was completely fucked... but instead of just giving the shark the fish and my spear and gun... I kept fucking with the spear tip.

That shark was less than 3 feet from me when the spear came out of the fish... and almost in that exact same moment, I basically hand fed that whole slob snapper to this fucking bull shark. The snapper was big enough that it kinda blocked all of the shark's jaw from touching any part of me. I did take a good strong blow from the snapper being knocked back into me as the shark grabbed it from me as he torpedoed into me. This bull was 10+ feet long and fat as fuck. He took that giant snapper from my hands and swam the other direction. My brother-in-law watched the whole thing go down from underwater... he said the shark basically swallowed that whole snapper in one big bite.

Neither one of us could believe what had happened. We went back to the boat and waited for my friend to come back. He climbed into the boat telling us that the sharks were out of control where he was. We just looked at him and he could see in our eyes that something was wrong.

That was the last time that either of us ever used a tank or a speargun in the Bahamas. I am very lucky to be able to tell this story.

 

[Loyal]

The very 1st time that my friend and I took his boat over to the Bahamas could have easily been the end of me... it really should have been the end of me. When I think about it, I know that I used up all of the luck that I'm ever going to have.

My friend Paul and I were pretty hard-core with our fishing and diving. Almost every weekend, and sometimes during the week, we would be out trying to kill some seafood for ourselves. We really had no fear and we were rebels when it came to following all the rules... when we were out on, or under the water, we felt like we decided what our rules were. Even though we were grown ass men... we were just boys being boys.

We decided that we were going to take his boat over to a very remote island in the Bahamas that is known for it's great fishing and diving. It's 140 miles one way across the Atlantic from where we were leaving Florida. The island is not a tourist destination... it doesn't even have cars or real roads. The waters around it are completely unspoiled and unbelievably loaded with marine life. It's an adventure just making the trip over on your own. I had done it with my Grandfather on his sportfishing boat (much bigger boat than my friend's) when I was young, but this was the 1st time for either of us doing it by ourselves. We also brought my brother-in-law along who is a marine biologist.

When we got there we couldn't wait to go diving the next day and spear some serious shit. We talked to the locals that night and they were telling us about the sharks there and how to deal with their aggression. We thought they were just being super protective and over reactive about the sharks. They seemed scared to death of them and many of them wouldn't even get in the water because of their fear. Paul and I dove with sharks in the water all the time and we respected them... but we were definitely not fearful of them. Bottom line... we thought the locals were bitches when it came to sharks.

If you aren't a Bahamian... you are not allowed to use a tank if you are going to spear sealife. You have to free dive if you want to kill something. Bahamians are allowed to though because that's how many of them make a living. Nobody is allowed to use spearGUNS. You can use Hawaiian slings and polespears... but no guns as they feel it is an unfair advantage. Well... like I said, Paul and I didn't like to follow rules back in those days.

We headed out the next morning straight to the reef. On the top of this reef the water was only about 4 feet deep and it is a massive structure. You can literally walk across the top of it for like 50 yards going east before you reach the point where it drops off into the depths very fast. It went from 4 feet of water and instantly dropped off to like 200 feet+... almost like a cliff. The tide was going out so the current was moving east along the top of the reef and into the deep water. When you were on top of the reef the current was hard to deal with, but down past the drop-off the current was kinda blocked the deeper you went down.

Paul and I brought out tanks... and we had spearguns. My brother-in-law was only free diving though and he stayed up on top of the reef killing bugs while Paul and I went down off the drop-off. There were giant snapper all around me and I couldn't believe my eyes. I lined up a big slob of a snapper and pretty much stoned his ass with a perfect shot from my gun. The fish was at least 35 - 40 pounds. I started making my way back to the boat to put it on ice... I had to work against the current and it was a bitch. Once I got up on top of the reef I could kinda walk against the current. To swim against it you would have had to be aqua man. So I was making slow steady progress back towards the boat.

My brother-in-law swam over and couldn't believe how big that fish was. He checked it out for a minute and went back looking for more bugs as I continued to walk back to the boat. A few minutes later I notice that my brother-in-law was making some weird movements on top of the water and he was kinda spinning around like he was looking for a fish that may have escaped. He was like 25 yards away from me. He was coming my way with his face down in the water so he could see whatever it was that he was after. He got to about 10 yards from me and he was pointing towards me with his snorkel in his mouth making loud noises. That's when I saw a fin come out of the water between me and him. I put my mask back on and looked under the water to see what kind of shark it was. I wasn't the least bit concerned at the sight of the fin, but when I looked under the water I was pretty shocked. It was a massive bull shark. MASSIVE.

The damn thing had apparently made a few aggressive charges at my brother-in-law... that's when I had seen him making weird fast movements. He was stabbing at that beast with his polespear to fight it back away from him. The shark smelled the fish blood in the water and he figured out that my brother-in-law didn't have it... that's when the shark started heading directly to me. It started circling me and arching it's fins and back in a very aggressive display. I knew he wanted the fish he was smelling... and he was gonna get it.

The spear shaft had a tip on it with these pop out fin things that are designed to pop out and prevent the fish from coming off of the spear. It is easy to deal with in the boat... but I needed this fish off that spear immediately. Removing it the way I was trying to do it NEVER works... but this shark was getting closer and closer in his circling of me and he was fucking visibly pissed. I didn't have much time. Maybe just seconds before this beast of a bull was probably gonna come in hot and start biting everything including me. He had enough of the circling and he started making a bee-line right at me. I was still attempting to get that fish off the spear. I was convinced that I was completely fucked... but instead of just giving the shark the fish and my spear and gun... I kept fucking with the spear tip.

That shark was less than 3 feet from me when the spear came out of the fish... and almost in that exact same moment, I basically hand fed that whole slob snapper to this fucking bull shark. The snapper was big enough that it kinda blocked all of the shark's jaw from touching any part of me. I did take a good strong blow from the snapper being knocked back into me as the shark grabbed it from me as he torpedoed into me. This bull was 10+ feet long and fat as fuck. He took that giant snapper from my hands and swam the other direction. My brother-in-law watched the whole thing go down from underwater... he said the shark basically swallowed that whole snapper in one big bite.

Neither one of us could believe what had happened. We went back to the boat and waited for my friend to come back. He climbed into the boat telling us that the sharks were out of control where he was. We just looked at him and he could see in our eyes that something was wrong.

That was the last time that either of us ever used a tank or a speargun in the Bahamas. I am very lucky to be able to tell this story.

Don't get all scary about big anchovies with teeth, Selassie!

 

[badnews]

The very 1st time that my friend and I took his boat over to the Bahamas could have easily been the end of me... it really should have been the end of me. When I think about it, I know that I used up all of the luck that I'm ever going to have.

My friend Paul and I were pretty hard-core with our fishing and diving. Almost every weekend, and sometimes during the week, we would be out trying to kill some seafood for ourselves. We really had no fear and we were rebels when it came to following all the rules... when we were out on, or under the water, we felt like we decided what our rules were. Even though we were grown ass men... we were just boys being boys.

We decided that we were going to take his boat over to a very remote island in the Bahamas that is known for it's great fishing and diving. It's 140 miles one way across the Atlantic from where we were leaving Florida. The island is not a tourist destination... it doesn't even have cars or real roads. The waters around it are completely unspoiled and unbelievably loaded with marine life. It's an adventure just making the trip over on your own. I had done it with my Grandfather on his sportfishing boat (much bigger boat than my friend's) when I was young, but this was the 1st time for either of us doing it by ourselves. We also brought my brother-in-law along who is a marine biologist.

When we got there we couldn't wait to go diving the next day and spear some serious shit. We talked to the locals that night and they were telling us about the sharks there and how to deal with their aggression. We thought they were just being super protective and over reactive about the sharks. They seemed scared to death of them and many of them wouldn't even get in the water because of their fear. Paul and I dove with sharks in the water all the time and we respected them... but we were definitely not fearful of them. Bottom line... we thought the locals were bitches when it came to sharks.

If you aren't a Bahamian... you are not allowed to use a tank if you are going to spear sealife. You have to free dive if you want to kill something. Bahamians are allowed to though because that's how many of them make a living. Nobody is allowed to use spearGUNS. You can use Hawaiian slings and polespears... but no guns as they feel it is an unfair advantage. Well... like I said, Paul and I didn't like to follow rules back in those days.

We headed out the next morning straight to the reef. On the top of this reef the water was only about 4 feet deep and it is a massive structure. You can literally walk across the top of it for like 50 yards going east before you reach the point where it drops off into the depths very fast. It went from 4 feet of water and instantly dropped off to like 200 feet+... almost like a cliff. The tide was going out so the current was moving east along the top of the reef and into the deep water. When you were on top of the reef the current was hard to deal with, but down past the drop-off the current was kinda blocked the deeper you went down.

Paul and I brought out tanks... and we had spearguns. My brother-in-law was only free diving though and he stayed up on top of the reef killing bugs while Paul and I went down off the drop-off. There were giant snapper all around me and I couldn't believe my eyes. I lined up a big slob of a snapper and pretty much stoned his ass with a perfect shot from my gun. The fish was at least 35 - 40 pounds. I started making my way back to the boat to put it on ice... I had to work against the current and it was a bitch. Once I got up on top of the reef I could kinda walk against the current. To swim against it you would have had to be aqua man. So I was making slow steady progress back towards the boat.

My brother-in-law swam over and couldn't believe how big that fish was. He checked it out for a minute and went back looking for more bugs as I continued to walk back to the boat. A few minutes later I notice that my brother-in-law was making some weird movements on top of the water and he was kinda spinning around like he was looking for a fish that may have escaped. He was like 25 yards away from me. He was coming my way with his face down in the water so he could see whatever it was that he was after. He got to about 10 yards from me and he was pointing towards me with his snorkel in his mouth making loud noises. That's when I saw a fin come out of the water between me and him. I put my mask back on and looked under the water to see what kind of shark it was. I wasn't the least bit concerned at the sight of the fin, but when I looked under the water I was pretty shocked. It was a massive bull shark. MASSIVE.

The damn thing had apparently made a few aggressive charges at my brother-in-law... that's when I had seen him making weird fast movements. He was stabbing at that beast with his polespear to fight it back away from him. The shark smelled the fish blood in the water and he figured out that my brother-in-law didn't have it... that's when the shark started heading directly to me. It started circling me and arching it's fins and back in a very aggressive display. I knew he wanted the fish he was smelling... and he was gonna get it.

The spear shaft had a tip on it with these pop out fin things that are designed to pop out and prevent the fish from coming off of the spear. It is easy to deal with in the boat... but I needed this fish off that spear immediately. Removing it the way I was trying to do it NEVER works... but this shark was getting closer and closer in his circling of me and he was fucking visibly pissed. I didn't have much time. Maybe just seconds before this beast of a bull was probably gonna come in hot and start biting everything including me. He had enough of the circling and he started making a bee-line right at me. I was still attempting to get that fish off the spear. I was convinced that I was completely fucked... but instead of just giving the shark the fish and my spear and gun... I kept fucking with the spear tip.

That shark was less than 3 feet from me when the spear came out of the fish... and almost in that exact same moment, I basically hand fed that whole slob snapper to this fucking bull shark. The snapper was big enough that it kinda blocked all of the shark's jaw from touching any part of me. I did take a good strong blow from the snapper being knocked back into me as the shark grabbed it from me as he torpedoed into me. This bull was 10+ feet long and fat as fuck. He took that giant snapper from my hands and swam the other direction. My brother-in-law watched the whole thing go down from underwater... he said the shark basically swallowed that whole snapper in one big bite.

Neither one of us could believe what had happened. We went back to the boat and waited for my friend to come back. He climbed into the boat telling us that the sharks were out of control where he was. We just looked at him and he could see in our eyes that something was wrong.

That was the last time that either of us ever used a tank or a speargun in the Bahamas. I am very lucky to be able to tell this story.

Damn dude, that sounds intense! I have always wanted to get into diving and spending some time exploring a reef with a Hawaiian sling is a plan of mine at some point. Unfortunately the 1st and only time I ever skydived I had a slight headcold and some sinus congestion. Somehow I missed all of the warning you are supposed to get about not jumping, espescially free fall, with any kind of head cold. Claritin would have been enough probably but I didn't know. Jumped tandem at 11000 feet from a King Air and by the time the parachute opened I was already feeling a killer headache. It honest to God lasted for 2 weeks. I am really stubborn about going to the Dr and I never did but ever since my ears don't pop like they should and any pressure is kinda scary. So diving is out for now but shallow water snorkeling is what I'm looking for.

 

[FaulkSF]

My last suicide attempt (June 1st, 2015) was the closest I came to dying. I purposely fell off of a bridge (I was going to choose the highway, but I didn't want to hurt anyone...so I chose a bridge not too far from it with no traffic.

I still remember all of the hallucinations I had while under the knife. (I had broken two bones in my back, my right hip was flayed out, my left leg had torn ligaments, and according to the words of a doctor later on, my right foot looked like a bomb went off in it, along with the ligament damage in my right leg.) I mostly remember seeing nothing but a black void - and I figure that's where I'm going to go when I die. Either it's hell...or nothing.

There were other trippy hallucinations as well, things that I knew were false, but I couldn't help but go along with them. They weren't bad...aside from the constant pain.

I'm glad you're here with us and your loved ones are happy too. At ROD we enjoy reading your posts, especially your Mock Drafts, your taste in metal, and your progress on books and your youtube channel!

 

[Selassie I]

Damn dude, that sounds intense! I have always wanted to get into diving and spending some time exploring a reef with a Hawaiian sling is a plan of mine at some point. Unfortunately the 1st and only time I ever skydived I had a slight headcold and some sinus congestion. Somehow I missed all of the warning you are supposed to get about not jumping, espescially free fall, with any kind of head cold. Claritin would have been enough probably but I didn't know. Jumped tandem at 11000 feet from a King Air and by the time the parachute opened I was already feeling a killer headache. It honest to God lasted for 2 weeks. I am really stubborn about going to the Dr and I never did but ever since my ears don't pop like they should and any pressure is kinda scary. So diving is out for now but shallow water snorkeling is what I'm looking for.

Equalizing as you go down when you dive only takes a little practice. Some peeps need more than others... but you are in control of your dive when you have a tank on your back. You don't have to rush it.

Free diving is harder really. You don't have a tank on and you only have as much time as you can hold your breath for. So you usually have to equalize with a quickness when free diving to maximize your time to hunt.

My real fear (besides spiders) is heights. Fuck jumping out of a plane.

 

[Loyal]

Equalizing as you go down when you dive only takes a little practice. Some peeps need more than others... but you are in control of your dive when you have a tank on your back. You don't have to rush it.

Free diving is harder really. You don't have a tank on and you only have as much time as you can hold your breath for. So you usually have to equalize with a quickness when free diving to maximize your time to hunt.

My real fear (besides spiders) is heights. Fuck jumping out of a plane.

Bull sharks and heights.....That's why I'll never sky dive in a Sharknado.... ~ Selassi

 

[Neil039]

My last suicide attempt (June 1st, 2015) was the closest I came to dying. I purposely fell off of a bridge (I was going to choose the highway, but I didn't want to hurt anyone...so I chose a bridge not too far from it with no traffic.

I still remember all of the hallucinations I had while under the knife. (I had broken two bones in my back, my right hip was flayed out, my left leg had torn ligaments, and according to the words of a doctor later on, my right foot looked like a bomb went off in it, along with the ligament damage in my right leg.) I mostly remember seeing nothing but a black void - and I figure that's where I'm going to go when I die. Either it's hell...or nothing.

There were other trippy hallucinations as well, things that I knew were false, but I couldn't help but go along with them. They weren't bad...aside from the constant pain.

I am beyond sorry that there has been points in your life where this felt like your only option. I only know you from your posts(LOVE THEM). My hope is that you see your personal value as many of us do (Unlimited ). I have a story to share and will add it later. Yours, as brief as it is, touched me. Look forward to reading your posts for years to come.

 

[badnews]

Equalizing as you go down when you dive only takes a little practice. Some peeps need more than others... but you are in control of your dive when you have a tank on your back. You don't have to rush it.

Free diving is harder really. You don't have a tank on and you only have as much time as you can hold your breath for. So you usually have to equalize with a quickness when free diving to maximize your time to hunt.

My real fear (besides spiders) is heights. Fuck jumping out of a plane.

Heights are what I do for a living, or half of what I do for a living. I design, program and operate lighting consoles for concerts, theater, live entertainment in general.
The other gig is arena rigging, which is equally fun but whereas lighting is mix of being a programmer and an artist, arena rigging is a mix between being a climber and at some levels an engineer. All of the lighting, audio, video etc that hangs in the air at concerts must be hung in the air from the usually I-beam grids above the arena. I really love doing both jobs and I am fortunate enough (pre-covid) to be able to make a decent living between the two without committing to big tours that take me away from home too much.

Anyways, arena rigging is essentially playing in the I-beam grid in the rafters anywhere from 70 to 200 feet above bove an arena floor. All of the points that hang the lighting rigs and audio for shows have to get in the air safely and thats our job. It definitely attracts thrill seekers and competitive types. Its nothing like lighting, though in the same industry, but for me - I am afraid of heights. Infact I don't like training new riggers who aren't afraid of heights. They should be. A wrong move can be fatal. Its a job with a high fatality rate and if you drop a pin or shackle on someone, you will kill them. So if someone isn't at least a little uncomfortable with heights, I don't trust them to appreciate the consequences of their mistakes.
What I love about it is that when I'm working at height, walking on 8 inch wide beams and pulling up chain motors, my mind is forced to slow down and run in "emergency functions only mode". Everything in the world and all of the thoughts that aren't completely necessary to do my job just fall away. Its just me and my next move. I love it. There is nothing I have found that quiets my mind like that does.
A couple years back I rigged a Paul McCartney show in Wichita. As he left the building he saw us riggers with our harnesses and rope and he walked straight up and looked me in my eye and said "Just wanted to thank you all for the job you do."
Naturally I immediately called my mom and woke her up to tell her what had just happened. Sir Paul thanked me. Who needs to find a "real career now, Mom?" Hahaha I was milking it for all it was worth with her. For the first time in all my years working shows, running lights for big acts, she never cared about but now it was finally validated.

Sorry, I didn't mean for another long-winded post.

 

[Loyal]

Heights are what I do for a living, or half of what I do for a living. I design, program and operate lighting consoles for concerts, theater, live entertainment in general.
The other gig is arena rigging, which is equally fun but whereas lighting is mix of being a programmer and an artist, arena rigging is a mix between being a climber and at some levels an engineer. All of the lighting, audio, video etc that hangs in the air at concerts must be hung in the air from the usually I-beam grids above the arena. I really love doing both jobs and I am fortunate enough (pre-covid) to be able to make a decent living between the two without committing to big tours that take me away from home too much.

Anyways, arena rigging is essentially playing in the I-beam grid in the rafters anywhere from 70 to 200 feet above bove an arena floor. All of the points that hang the lighting rigs and audio for shows have to get in the air safely and thats our job. It definitely attracts thrill seekers and competitive types. Its nothing like lighting, though in the same industry, but for me - I am afraid of heights. Infact I don't like training new riggers who aren't afraid of heights. They should be. A wrong move can be fatal. Its a job with a high fatality rate and if you drop a pin or shackle on someone, you will kill them. So if someone isn't at least a little uncomfortable with heights, I don't trust them to appreciate the consequences of their mistakes.
What I love about it is that when I'm working at height, walking on 8 inch wide beams and pulling up chain motors, my mind is forced to slow down and run in "emergency functions only mode". Everything in the world and all of the thoughts that aren't completely necessary to do my job just fall away. Its just me and my next move. I love it. There is nothing I have found that quiets my mind like that does.
A couple years back I rigged a Paul McCartney show in Wichita. As he left the building he saw us riggers with our harnesses and rope and he walked straight up and looked me in my eye and said "Just wanted to thank you all for the job you do."
Naturally I immediately called my mom and woke her up to tell her what had just happened. Sir Paul thanked me. Who needs to find a "real career now, Mom?" Hahaha I was milking it for all it was worth with her. For the first time in all my years working shows, running lights for big acts, she never cared about but now it was finally validated.

Sorry, I didn't mean for another long-winded post.

Sir Paul: "Thank you badnews for all that you do."
badnews: "Talk is cheap, Paulie. Show me the quan...