What is the scariest thing that has happened to you whilst abroad?

A couple of years ago, I went around the Mongolian countryside for a week with five other travellers I had met. This involved some nights staying with the nomads, in their yurts, and some nights camping by ourselves.

I will never forget what happened on one of the nights when we camped.

Everything had seemed ok. We had pitched our tents, a shallow stream acted as a beer fridge and there was plenty of firewood knocking about.

Soon, the fire was roaring and the drinks were going down very nicely indeed. That was until somebody noticed a few shapes grouping together menacingly in the distance. I hoped that they would leave us alone. I was to be disappointed.

A pack of around fifteen big semi-wild dogs began to slowly walk over, getting closer and closer. Semi-wild... they belong to people, they wear collars, but they are left to form gangs and roam around most of the time. A gang had indeed been formed and they were slowly roaming towards us. A few rocks hurled in their general direction seemed at first to dissuade them as they turned around and began to walk away.

A few yards further on, they sat down.

They were waiting for night to fall.

I was worried. Our bags of food were clearly an attractive proposition to them. But were they merely hungry or had we strayed into their territory? Were they scavengers or fighters? We decided a good course of action would be to distance ourselves from our food. Two large trees stood further down the river and the highest boughs we could reach became our larder, the bags of food hanging out of the dogs' reach.

After around an hour of pure fear on my part, as darkness began to descend, the dogs roused themselves and edged closer. We huddled around the ever diminishing fire and spoke about what we thought may happen. Nobody could see it ending well. As the dogs got closer, they walked away to the left and disappeared over a small ridge, out of sight. Although unable to see them, we could still hear them. They growled and barked.

Complete darkness soon handed them the advantage. We had choices to make. Would we be safe as long as we had fire? Just a few large sticks remained. Was there more value in warmth, light and an animal’s primal fear than there was in having primitive clubs? Would a thrown beer bottle stop an angry dog? Would the bottle of Chinggis Khaan vodka make a good incendiary bomb, burning rag stuffed into the top and hurled into the pack? Or should it be saved to lessen the pain after their vicious attack has left us all missing whole chunks of flesh?

The only unnatural light anywhere close was that of our torches. Shone towards the incessant growling, it was reflected back by many pairs of evil eyes as the dogs came over the ridge. Were they fighting between themselves or working up for an assault?

The moon cast shadows as some of the braver dogs began to get closer. A noise from behind caused me to shine my torch. Eyes. They were circling us. Back to back, we stood over the pile of embers. How on Earth do you defend yourself against a large group of big dogs? There was more than twice as many of them as there was of us.

Dark, completely alone and with no possible help anywhere close, it was the perfect horror movie scenario.

More dogs emerged from the shadows all around. The situation had become critical. Our only chance was the almost non-existent protection offered by the tents. It was our only hope, to get inside and pray that they would be too lazy to try ripping them open. Perhaps they would smell the food and head for the tree. As we walked slowly towards the camp, a huge shape loomed in the middle of our circle of tents.

The biggest dog in the pack was lying there, blocking our way in. Back at the fire, we discussed our options. I think the conclusion we reached was more in hope than expectation.

"If they were going to tear us limb from limb, they would have done it by now."

Approaching again, the dog seemed unconcerned by our presence. He had fallen asleep. How unhappy would he be if we woke him? If he growls, how long before the others come? It was too late. He looked up. He looked at us... and began wagging his tail. Dropping his ears, he just lay there as we stroked him.

The relief I felt was unreal. Never, before or since, have I been so convinced that I was in a situation that could only end with me being seriously hurt, or worse. I climbed into my tent and quickly fell asleep.

Waking in the morning, I stepped out into the open air to see what damage had been done. It was obvious that once we were out of sight, they would have all gathered outside.

It was horrible. How could we have expected anything else? They may have seemed tame by the end of the night but dogs are still dogs. They do what dogs do.

Nobody escaped unscathed and the mass marking of territory they had undertaken now stained every corner of every tent.

I walked away from the camp to heed the call of nature myself. Around five of the dogs were lying beneath a tree on the other side of the river. As I did what I had to do, I looked over at them and wondered if that was their usual place to hang out. With more bravery, I could have dished out a wee bit of revenge.

Another lad and I walked over to the tree to take down the food. The dogs had been either uninterested or unable to reach it. Unfortunately, some birds had been far keener and able to see what we had. All of the ‘real food’ was untouched but it seems the birds had a far sweeter tooth than can be satisfied by instant noodles. My jellybeans had bore the brunt of their scavenging nature and were now all over the floor.

Bloody birds.

The time between it getting dark and us realising the dogs weren’t going to rip us to shreds was without doubt the scariest experience I have had in my life. But because it happened abroad, I thought I’d make that a condition of this thread and put it in the travel section.

So, if you can face reliving it and writing it up, what is yours?

Haha, that is excellent mate. I'll have a think.

I see your horror story and raise you....





I saw Dale Winton in a club in Faliraki!

I misread that at first and thought you said Falkirk.

Either way, realising you go to the same sort of clubs as Dale Winton must have been a scary time for you mate!

A 14 year old kid tried to mug me with a hand grenade when I was trekking, once.

Not a particularly fun moment.

holy crap!!

where was that?!

Wakefield

Close!

Where was that greybeard?

Pretty strange choice of weapon to mug someone with...

"If you don't give me your money, I'll throw this at you as soon as you're a safe distance away".

What did you do to get away from the young hoodlum?

A 14 year old boy?

Why didnt you just take it off him? Along with his Panini Football Stickers & Justin Bieber album!

In a park in the middle of Sydney I was involved in a cricket game, and just as last light was fading a swarm of the biggest bats I've ever seen came hurtling around the park before settling in the trees...causing one rather large branch to snap and break off.

These things were immense, the sort of thing you would expect to see in a vampire movie, and those circling only feet above my head was a scary encounter.

That was a scary day, actually. Whilst retrieving the cricket ball from the foot of a tree, a small spider dropped on to my shirt. I panicked big time, shook it off with some violence and made sure I was a good 100m away from that tree at all times from that point onward! Can't ever trust the Australian spiders...

Il Gialloblu wrote:Where was that greybeard?

Pretty strange choice of weapon to mug someone with...

"If you don't give me your money, I'll throw this at you as soon as you're a safe distance away".

What did you do to get away from the young hoodlum?

In Nepal, they had a bit of a Maoist problem 10 years ago.

We figured out the best way to survive was to stand beside him. Not the brightest lad. He then ran back to his village to get reinforcements and we legged it.

Wal-Mart.

lol why

You could get lost in the cereal aisle, that's why! It's scary how they sell guns in the supermarket too!

haha lol fair enough

When i was 18 (1988)i was suppose to be going on holiday to Jamaica but the day we were leaving the hurricane hit Kingston and the flight was cancelled . We were put up in a hotel near Manchester Airport and offered a refund or an alternate holiday the next day we chose the alternate Peurto Rico and flew that evening , after a long flight and a 2 hour check at the airport we were escorted to our complex by machine gun carrying guards . The complex was fantastic but it really was like a prison with a surrounding wall and large gates at either end , if you were brave enough to venture outside the complex you were immediatley harrassed by drug dealers trying to sell you dope . But the scariest part was night times when you could hear machine gun fire and one night 4 men broke into the kitchens and then had a running battle with the armed guards .

I did however enjoy the holiday ,great weather ,and i met Paulo Rossi the Italian footballer

We lived in Sierra Leone, West Africa when I was a kid as my Dad was an engineer in the diamond mines. The only international flights into the country flew into the capital Freetown, which is on the west coast and we lived in the east of the country about 250 miles away by road, which at that time was mainly just dirt tracks. The mine owners used to fly the rough diamonds into Freetown (before moving them on to Europe for polishing) via their own private jet and so international staff members and family used to fly with them when going home for whatever reason.

This one particular time my Mum and I were returning to the UK for a visit and were flying west towards Freetown. The only people on the small jet plane were the two of us, two pilots up front and four armed security guards accompanying the diamonds, although there was space for about 12 people in total. My Mum had packed me a small lunch box with a drink and some toy (matchbox) cars to pass the time. The lunch box was one of the old plastic ones with something like Snoopy printed on the side of it (all kids had them in those days). About 30 minutes into the flight I open the lunchbox which makes a pretty impressive click as I open the latch. The security guards, who weren't paying much attention to us up until this point all hear the click, jump into action and the next thing you know is we have four AK-47's pointing straight at us. Once everything had calmed down I found it pretty cool but to this day my Mum still goes very pale when the story gets brought up.

School was a private place paid for by the Mining company. As it got so hot in the afternoons it only ran from 8am until 1pm every day (although I seem to think it could have been six days a week, can't remember for sure). Anyway, due to the heat I always used to go swimming every afternoon at the local golf club which was about a 10 minute walk from our house, and always made the journey in just swimming trunks and and flip-flops. The houses where we lived were situated in a cleared out area of tropical forest and it was basically just bush-land behind our house. I was always told to watch where you stepped due to the wildlife but being young just used to bound around everywhere. This one particular day I stepped straight out of our back door and into a huge column of marching ants who happened to be travelling past our house, who as far as they were concerned were now coming under attack (by me). They swarmed all over me, going inside me ears, mouth and nose (and ass ) and although thankfully not poisonous they did have a nasty bite. They got me inside and into a bath of cold water to kill them off and I ended up in hospital for a few days where they treated the bites with the only treatment they had out there, regular penicillin shots to the ass to stop them becoming infected. The frustrating thing was that a few weeks after getting home I managed to do exactly the same thing again and got to spend some more time in hospital

Some cracking stories there KingKenny and B91212.

Great stuff!

excellent stuff, fellas.

In Montevideo, Uruguay when I was in the Royal Navy. A local guy, Beco his name, owned a (what we used to call anyway) a whore bar. He used to visit every ship that docked and acted as a kind of unofficial liaison officer. He was a nice bloke despite his chosen proffesion and would always organise stuff for the ships company.
Anyhoo, he managed to get some tickets for a Nacional (one of the big Montevideo football teams) match against a Columbian side in the copa Libatadores. So, we all went in our football shirts with a massive union flag to boot and set up camp in the home end, thinking nothing off it. As the stadium got fuller and more and more beer was consumed we caught the eye of the locals who invited us in with them to sing and support the team. Nice coincidence though that Nacional played in red white and blue that matched our flag and England shirts. I guess what happened towards the end of the match is that some Hardcore Ultras didn't take to kindly to us being on their patch and decided to wade in demanding our shirts, cash, watches etc. As we were all beered up and in numbers we thought we could hold our own until some of the locals who invited us in quickly melted away and one of the ultras pulled a gun out. Now, being in the forces, albeit the Navy, your used to guns but actually seeing one pointed at you in a place you least expect it? Certainly scared the sh1t out of me. Everything just seemed to slow down and become sureal when this geezer pulled a gun out and threaten your life with it. I remember thinking ' is this really happening?' Then quickly realising that this is deadly serious and that you could actually get killed.
Our one saving grace that calmed the situation down and made our escape from the stadium alive and with our cash is one of the locals who had earlier swapped shirts with one of our lads who was a boro fan, must of been a top boy because he came over, had a word with the ultra with the gun and told him to leave our group alone. Then for us to in no uncertain terms, foxtrot oscar from the ground! On that cue we all legged it out of the stadium and back to the solace of the ship.
Apart from seeing big fat heavily tattoo'd British women on the beaches of Lanzarote, that is the scariest thing that has happened to me whilst abroad.

Crikey that is a crazy story, bloody scary as well! New underwear required after that encounter, I'd imagine.

Breadvan wrote:In Montevideo, Uruguay when I was in the Royal Navy. A local guy, Beco his name, owned a (what we used to call anyway) a whore bar. He used to visit every ship that docked and acted as a kind of unofficial liaison officer. He was a nice bloke despite his chosen proffesion and would always organise stuff for the ships company.
Anyhoo, he managed to get some tickets for a Nacional (one of the big Montevideo football teams) match against a Columbian side in the copa Libatadores. So, we all went in our football shirts with a massive union flag to boot and set up camp in the home end, thinking nothing off it. As the stadium got fuller and more and more beer was consumed we caught the eye of the locals who invited us in with them to sing and support the team. Nice coincidence though that Nacional played in red white and blue that matched our flag and England shirts. I guess what happened towards the end of the match is that some Hardcore Ultras didn't take to kindly to us being on their patch and decided to wade in demanding our shirts, cash, watches etc. As we were all beered up and in numbers we thought we could hold our own until some of the locals who invited us in quickly melted away and one of the ultras pulled a gun out. Now, being in the forces, albeit the Navy, your used to guns but actually seeing one pointed at you in a place you least expect it? Certainly scared the sh1t out of me. Everything just seemed to slow down and become sureal when this geezer pulled a gun out and threaten your life with it. I remember thinking ' is this really happening?' Then quickly realising that this is deadly serious and that you could actually get killed.
Our one saving grace that calmed the situation down and made our escape from the stadium alive and with our cash is one of the locals who had earlier swapped shirts with one of our lads who was a boro fan, must of been a top boy because he came over, had a word with the ultra with the gun and told him to leave our group alone. Then for us to in no uncertain terms, foxtrot oscar from the ground! On that cue we all legged it out of the stadium and back to the solace of the ship.
Apart from seeing big fat heavily tattoo'd British women on the beaches of Lanzarote, that is the scariest thing that has happened to me whilst abroad.

Now that is frightening. The South American football incident is pretty scary as well

Once narrowly avoided being stabbed in the face in Nairobi.
Me and the missus were going out to a local restaurant when I saw two guys who seemed drunk/stoned, staring at us. They came towards us and one raised his hand, in which he had some sort of blade, and tried to stab me with it. Luckily I managed to block him, the missus started screaming and a number of locals grabbed the guys while me and the missus legged it.
Pretty unnerving.

Wow, you guys have suffered scarier moments than myself...

I think my scariest moment was getting chased for about 400m by a dog in Tenerife.

I was about 10 years old, and had heard stories of dogs with rabies abroad. Sure enough, I'm walking back to my apartment and I spot this dog up the road. It sees me straight away, and starts running toward me.

Well, that's me gone. I drop my lilo, drop my towel and start sprinting back toward the pool and to the sanctuary of my parents. En route, I run past my dad who is also on his way back, and after doing a double take realise it is him and go to hide behind him, telling him in a panicked voice that a mad dog is on its way and has chased me down the road.

Next thing you know, this merry looking dog trots gently around the corner, wagging its tail and just wanting to play. Quite embarrassing, even at that age!

Getting mugged in Amsterdam. By two guys who I fought off at the cost of a ripped jacket and damaged shoes. Police told me next morning I was lucky I wasn't stabbed as most muggings there involved knives. That was over 20 years ago.

Nearly getting caught up in an anti-USA demonstration in Iran wasn't the most fun you can have, especially as I don't think being British would have really put me any more into their good books (having said that, the vast majority of people I met over there were very friendly, it was just a mob of extremists).

Also, the drive from the airport to the hotel for our honeymoon in St Lucia will live in the memory - the driver was a bit mad anyway, but at one point to avoid the traffic in the capital he turned down this dirt track that was only the same width as our minibus and had a big cliff to the side of us. We thought the marriage could be rather terminally over after only 3 days.

A friend of ours has one of the worst stories though, when the car she and her father were in was washed away in a flash flood in Oman. Both escaped unscathed, but were separated for several hours during the night and thought the other had drowned.

I was walking down the street late at night, and another chap a few score metres ahead of me was apprehended by a couple of lads, one of whom hit him in the head with an axe! Pretty alarming really.  Where did this happen you ask? Watford (which is abroad for me)! Oh, and the victim survived.

Apart from seeing big fat heavily tattoo'd British women on the beaches of Lanzarote, that is the scariest thing that has happened to me whilst abroad.

TRUSS has to sunbathe somewhere fella

Scariest for me was being on a small riverboat in Laos which was way too overloaded with bags and people.

Due to it being overloaded the propeller which was on the end of a pole smashed against a rock and left us rudderless.

I wasn't overly concerned until the pilot and his mate both jumped over the side disappeared under the water and popped up about 30 feet away coughing and spluttering at the shore. Leaving me, my Mrs, several bemused Westerners and locals stuck on a boat that was now travelling fairly rapidly backwards (which they're not designed to do) and bouncing off various rocks (also not designed to do).

All was ok in the end as we got stuck on a sandbank, which was our home for three hours while the pilot went and fetched a rope from the nearest village and towed us to the shore.

My bessie mate back in school days used to spend the whole 6 week summer holiday down in the south of France. His parents owned a caravan on a site near to Cannes. It was a glorious place to spend the summer and I went over there at various times.

We would normally, as 15 or 16 boys do, spend the days bombing in the swimming pool, trying to get off with girls, attempting to source alcohol from somewhere or smoking ciggies till our throats hurt.

One day, however, we decided to do something sensible and worthwhile so a load of us Brits went for a walk up one of the smaller local mountains. It was brutally hot but we thought we would take some booze, go for a walk and then find somewhere up this mountain to relax. Having sweated our way up this hillside for about 2 hours, we finally found a small derelict chapel that overlooked the med sea way down below. It seemed like the perfect place to open the beer and chill out. We sat in the shade of this small chapel, overlooking the sea and Cannes in the distance whilst bullsh*tting each other about how many people we had slept with.

After about 15 minutes, we became aware of a low, steady droning noise which was getting louder and louder. Eventually, one of the guys glanced up to the roof of this chapel and saw the biggest hornets nest a 16 boy is likely to see. They were getting angrier and angrier and swarming around this nest. We ran. We ran and ran and didn't stop until the chapel, the noise and the angry swarm of Brit hating hornets was way behind up. It took about 2 hours to get up the hill, but about 25 minutes to get down.

In my mind, we were running from a ferocious mass of swarming hornets that were chasing us down the hillside, when in reality, they could well have just been wasps who were just letting us know they were around yet not interested in chasing us. Needless to say, no-one got stung but the story got better and wilder the longer the holiday went on.

Bloody hell, Tina - are you and Fists competing for the prize of having had the soppiest childhood? He runs away from a homosexual dog and you roll down a mountain to get away from a few bees.

superflyweight wrote:Bloody hell, Tina - are you and Fists competing for the prize of having had the soppiest childhood?  He runs away from a homosexual dog and you roll down a mountain to get away from a few bees.

Would you not run away from a homosexual dog, then?

Depends on the breed.

Mind the windows Tino. wrote:
In my mind, we were running from a ferocious mass of swarming hornets that were chasing us down the hillside, when in reality, they could well have just been wasps who were just letting us know they were around yet not interested in chasing us.  Needless to say, no-one got stung but the story got better and wilder the longer the holiday went on.

You made that up just to get Anthropods on another thread didn't you?

My scariest moment was also the probably one on of the best. I was 20 and travelling around Oz. We went to the Whitsundays and booked a 3 days 2 Nights sailing package on this boat called the Card. It used to be in the Ocean Yacht race or something like that. Anyway, we were told that to get to Whitehaven Beach we'd have to go through some pretty rough water called the washing machine. Being young and ballsy a few us said we're ok with that and to back up our confidence we went to the front tip of the boat (think Simon Le Bon in 'Rio' video).

Within 15 mins of setting off we arrived in the washing machine and the waves were pretty big already. The way these boats are designed, the bow is supposed to cut through the waves. Unfortunatley, being at the front that meant myself and 2 mates were getting completely submerged each time we hit a wave - once every 10 seconds or so. The crew were clearly worried as they sent a guy from the back (one eyed crazy American dude) on a harness to instruct us to hold on to anything we could and not dare try to get to the back under any circumstance.

I was properly dumping myself at this point and without being melodramatic, there were moments when i was just thinking of just letting go. It was like being dunked at the swimming pool every 10 seconds or so for 30 mins. We obviously survived the scare unhurt and as a positive, I'm fairly sure it impressed some fit Danish girls who were safely at the back. They were certainly quite friendly when we were back on dry land in any case.

My brother got chased by an octopus once, he was just about running on water. It may have been quite scary for him but it was f*****g funny for everyone else.

Galted wrote:My brother got chased by an octopus once, he was just about running on water.  It may have been quite scary for him but it was f*****g funny for everyone else.

Like Scooby Doo and Shaggy?

This was the trip I went on, still going 14 years on:

http://www.airliebeach.com/Sailing-adventure/Boats/the_card.html

Pulled up into a petrol station in pakistan, well part petrol station and part garage. Guy inside garage is welding an exhaust onto a bike and sparks are flying all over the forecourt and the attendant is holding a half smoked John Players gold leaf with the same hand he is filling up our coke bottle with petrol for the tandoori oven back home.

ShahenshahG wrote:Pulled up into a petrol station in pakistan, well part petrol station and part garage. Guy inside garage is welding an exhaust onto a bike and sparks are flying all over the forecourt and the attendant is holding a half smoked John Players gold leaf with the same hand he is filling up our coke bottle with petrol for the tandoori oven back home.

In our depressingly H&S fixated land, stories like that bring a smile to my face. I was reprimanded by the cricket club for smoking whilst filling up the mower. In all fairness to the committee it was junior training night and we were having an inspection to determine our clubmark status but still....

My Uncle works in the shipbuilding industry. Travels everywhere. Apparently whilst working in India there were regular deaths due to employees dragging gas cylinders by the nozzle. The nozzles would slip off launching a 3ft metal cylinder like a cruise missile taking out anyone unlucky enough to be in their trajectory.

seanmichaels wrote:

ShahenshahG wrote:Pulled up into a petrol station in pakistan, well part petrol station and part garage. Guy inside garage is welding an exhaust onto a bike and sparks are flying all over the forecourt and the attendant is holding a half smoked John Players gold leaf with the same hand he is filling up our coke bottle with petrol for the tandoori oven back home.

In our depressingly H&S fixated land, stories like that bring a smile to my face. I was reprimanded by the cricket club for smoking whilst filling up the mower. In all fairness to the committee it was junior training night and we were having an inspection to determine our clubmark status but still....

My Uncle works in the shipbuilding industry. Travels everywhere. Apparently whilst working in India there were regular deaths due to employees dragging gas cylinders by the nozzle. The nozzles would slip off launching a 3ft metal cylinder like a cruise missile taking out anyone unlucky enough to be in their trajectory.

I'll try and find some pictures and videos mate - funny Poopie goes on in pakistan. I've got a video somewhere of 30-50 people lfrom my village loaded on a 1 litre pickup truck going uphill then climbing off - walking across the bridge - past the miltary checkpoint and climbing back on once out of eyesight.

Another one of a Pathan (mountain person of afghan/Pakistan border - Like Afridi or Imran Khan) chasing a persistant beggar transvestite down the road with a stick and when he finally caught him - it turned out be a fat man in a drag and a couple of wool wrapped melons begging for a bogus sex change op.

And I swear Ive got a vid of a man getting drop kicked by a cow but that might already be up on youtube.

A few years ago, I flew to LA to try to patch things up with my wife following a period of separation. She was was working for a large Japanese organisation and was played at that time by Bonnie Bedelia. After being picked up by the airport by a black stereotype I was dropped off at a very plush office tower where the office Christmas party was in full swing.

Little did I know that a group of armed and very highly trained thieves were planning to pull off a murderous and audacious robbery from said office tower whilst masquerading as freedom fighters.

To cut a long story short, I found myself fighting a one man campaign against these robbers and I have to admit, it got a bit hairy at times - especially when Alan Rickman pretended to be American to earn my trust and then turned his gun on me. Anyway, to cut a long story short - it all ended with me throwing Alan Rickman off the roof off the office tower and me and the wife going home for some top notch shagging.

Sounds a bit scary, did you think up any interesting one-liners while this all happened, superfly?

Galted wrote:Sounds a bit scary, did you think up any interesting one-liners while this all happened, superfly?

Yuppy Khhi Ai

Galted wrote:Sounds a bit scary, did you think up any interesting one-liners while this all happened, superfly?

Yes - when throwing Rickman off the building I quite wittily said "stick that up your bollox".

superflyweight wrote:A few years ago, I flew to LA to try to patch things up with my wife following a period of separation.  She was was working for a large Japanese organisation and was played at that time by Bonnie Bedelia.  After being picked up by the airport by a black stereotype I was dropped off at a very plush office tower where the office Christmas party was in full swing.  

Little did I know that a group of armed and very highly trained thieves were planning to pull off a murderous and audacious robbery from said office tower whilst masquerading as freedom fighters.  

To cut a long story short, I found myself fighting a one man campaign against these robbers and I have to admit, it got a bit hairy at times - especially when Alan Rickman pretended to be American to earn my trust and then turned his gun on me.  Anyway, to cut a long story short - it all ended with me throwing Alan Rickman off the roof off the office tower and me and the wife going home for some top notch shagging.  

So you mock me for fleeing from angry arthropods, take the p*ss out of Fists for being scared of a gay dog, yet you're making up stories about things you haven't done.

The sad thing is, I actually believed you right up until the

superfly wrote: me and the wife going home for some top notch shagging.

part.

Didn't say she enjoyed it, did I?

I had already assumed that.

A few years ago me and my mates were on our 1st lads holiday in Gran Canaria. First night of the holiday we had a few beer in the hotel and decided to head into town to the nightclubs. On the way there we got stopped by your typical holiday rep feeding us cowpat about free drink in this strip club.

Being young and naive, and probably a touch horny, we decided to give it a go. So we followed this fella downstairs along a maze of paths to this club. Alarm bells started ringing. We paid ten euro in at the door and were told that included 2 free drinks. We walked on in and a group of girls jumped up and grabbed each if us by the hand as I grabbed my 1st beer. We all ended up at different tables with the girls.

Of the 5 of us only 2 were single so me and the other single fella went off with our girls into private rooms. As I got into the room the girl helped herself to a glass of champagne. And then tells me I owe her 50 euro. I ask what for? And she says the champagne and dance is 50 euro. I says I was promised 2 free drinks. My beer was 1 and her champagne was the other so I wasn't paying for it. At this point a massive man appeared in the door way and I started panicking. He asks if there was a problem. I said I don't have 50 euro on me and took out my wallet to show them. They lifted the last 30 euros I had on me straight out of it. At this point I said "f'£& this" and made a run for it. In the main lobby there was no one so I ran on out through the front door and back to the Main Street.

Got to the Main Street to find them lads doubled over laughing. They had tam as soon as I went to the private room. Bar stewards.

Also, later in the holiday after a night out we went back to the beach with a few girls but climbed down this slope to get to the beach. Drink in hands we didn't spill a drop. Went back the next day and seen that it wasn't so much a slope as nearly a cliff face we'd climbed down drunk off our heads. And went skinny dipping with 10 foot waves crashing. 1 of the girls swam about 100 yards out at which point I completely shat myself and instantly sobered up and, being a lifeguard at the time, I had to go out after her to bring her in. My mates, being the gentlemen that they are, saw this as an opportunity to do a runner with my clothes. I had to walk back to the hotel in a pair of wet white boxers at 9 in the morning. I got some funny looks.

Went on a family holiday when I was a teenager to the west coast of America and had a week in Hawaii. Me, my brother and my dad were in the sea, chucking a ball about fairly far out as we all loved the sea. There were quite a few people in but not many as far out. There were a few fishing boats further out than us as well.

All of a sudden a loud bell starts ringing on the beach and a guy on a loud tannoy says "everybody out of the water", he says this around the same time as someone shouts "shark". We look over at one of the fishing boats to see a large fin circling the boat. I have never swam so fast in my whole life. Seriously, Michael Phelps had nothing on me.

Needless to say, the hotel swimming pool looked far more inviting after that!

My dad was taken away by the Portuguese police when I was about 10. They had guns which scared me a bit, but nothing compared to some of your stories.

A group of friends went on a holiday to Magaluf (I didn't attend). The security guard in the hotel had been giving them grief for a few days, perhaps unwarranted. On the third or fourth day if being in the receiving end of his behaviour, tempers were a little fraid. One friend, who has a right hand like Mike Tyson, decided he had heard enough. He moved out of eyeshot from the security guard and hit him with a huge punch, knocked the guy out and about 6 of his teeth too. It really was appalling behaviour.

What he hadn't figured was that the security guard was a member of a local gang, so 30 minutes later about 15 guys turn up armed with knives, bats with nails in them, swords, knuckle dusters and glass bottles. They promptly break into the room, make the people who are in the room all get down on their knees and hold knives and various other weapons to each of their throats.

At this point the culprit had popped to the bar so was unaware what was happening. Moments later the police turn up and my friends breath a collective sign of relief, until, that is, the police pull out their guns and start pointing them towards my friends. By now the security guard has come round and correctly identifies that the one who punched him isn't around, until by complete coincidence he opens the door and walks into a scene from a horror movie. He picks out my friend who is immediately slammed to the floor, handcuffed and chucked into the back of a van.

They drive for about 10 minutes to a remote field where the policeman promptly take off their shoes (big heavy boots) and beat him round the face. They also use the batons and absolutely leather him all over for 2/3 minutes. He was a bloody mess. They then uncuff him and kick him out the van leaving him to make his own way home.

The police turn up the next day, take 500 euro off him for the dental fees and tell him if he so much as swears in public they will kill him. He sees the repaired security guard a couple of days later who gives him a little wink.