What is the most unwholesome experience you have had with a stranger?

I would love to take credit for the prompt, but I saw the opposite topic posted here today. I loved the idea of thinking about the opposite. It really made me think about a lot of my own experiences. It’s an interesting thing to think about.

I guess I’d have to say airport bathroom simultaneous vomiting and diarrhea in neighboring stalls.

My top 5 all include alcohol, fireworks, and phony displays of “patriotism”.

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I was in Bangkok, and …

Oh. Never mind.

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Punched in face by huge and very drunk Mongolian wrestler.

Chased about 1 mile on foot by the equivalent of a Mongolian nazi all the way until we slammed our apartment door on his hand that had been gripping my companion’s suit coat a moment earlier. The guy banged on our door for an hour or two then sat outside our door the rest of the night.

Lit on fire by drunk with matches outside a convenience store.

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It wasn’t my fault. She said she liked me.

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Really? The Chinese built the great wall and all they needed was an apartment door.

The doors there are like vault doors, and there is always two of them. Pretty crazy

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That’s an outer door. They usually have thick wooden doors on the inside of a door like that

This is really really tempting… It involves twin sisters, and I could double post the story in the Poetry Thread, but @NewbombTurk would be the only one who would approve :slight_smile:

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That reminded me of this

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I got in fight with a guy at the Sizzler salad bar (because he was disparaging Sizzlers…)

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So I shared my story in the wholesome story about an encounter with a stranger in New York - maybe this story - that happened the same night, falls in this category.

There were three of us that were together - one friend had peeled off for a bit to meet someone he knew (and that is when my other story happened). We met back up and walked all over NYC for the rest of the day. It was kind of hot and muggy and one friend started experiencing some serious ‘chaffing’ in unmentionable areas as we kept walking. Finally, around 11pm he was completely miserable so we scouted out a convenience store to see if we could find him some relief. The only thing that might help was a jar of Vasoline, so he grabbed that and the three of us walked up to the checkout together, we were purchasing nothing else.

The guy picked it up, looked at all three of us, shrugged his shoulders and checked us out.

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Reminds me of an experience I had on my mission. My companion and I were forced out of our apartment because our zone leader had seen some moças sunbathing topless within view of our place. We found a new apartment a block away. As we were carrying a mattress down the street we passed a storage facility. My companion stopped, thought for a second then told me to help carry the mattress over to the entrance gate attendant. He then asked the attendant if there were any garages we could rent for 10 minutes.

I can’t decide if the true question is if I should or shouldn’t share or if it is which one I should share.

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My partner and I were held at gun point in rural Virginia, forced to drive to a truck stop 45 minutes outside of town, so that this dude could shoot up in the bathroom. I told a couple of larger fellas in the parking lot what had just happened and they went in to the bathroom and kicked the holy ■■■■ out of the guy.

Maybe I am naive, but what was he hoping to rent it for?

Another time, I was robbed at gunpoint on 8th E and just South of 4th S in Salt Lake. Dude flashed a gun at me under his belt and told me to empty my pockets. At that point in my life, I was a devoted minimalist. I had a small notepad and a pencil in one pocket and a book in the other, no wallet, no money of any kind. He knocked those things out of my hand and ran off. I tried calling the police from a payphone on 4th S nearby. They told me in order to take my report, I had to identify myself. I said, “Well, ■■■■ you,” and hung up.

In the late 90s, I met a former BYU cheerleader on a long flight from SLC to NYC. Let’s just say I took one for the team. I think she missed some of her religious teachings somewhere along the way.

Wait, this is a family channel, right? I better leave the story as vague as possible.

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Another time, I was a happy hippy stoner in Amsterdam, really good body high/enlightened brain high, wandering around near Dam Square late at night. I ran into a crew of rough 20 somethings who got in my face for looking happy, I think. One of them told me I needed to shave my soul patch, if I wanted to look like a local. I went right back to Bob’s Youth Hostel and shaved it off.

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