I saw RedHorizons thread and thought it might be like this one, alas not.
I've gotten away with a few close-calls in my life, in fact I'm well surprised I'm still here. I never thought I'd make it to 60 (well, almost. I still might not).
From falling out of tall trees as a youngster to hair-raising escapes (and crashes) on a motor-bike. From near gassing myself to death in the Royal Navy to diving under black-jack tables to avoid a nutter firing off a gun in an illegal casino in Amsterdam.
From having a knife held to my throat in same said casino, where I was working a croupier, to escaping from armed bandits trying to car-jack us in Nigeria, by driving our 4x4 over rough ground where the robbers' Santanas couldn't follow.
From avoiding a family disaster when caught up in the horrific Phuket tsunami to having my car crushed (1 day after returning from Phuket) by a sleeping driver in a massive articulated lorry, yet walking away from my written off wreck without a scratch (I felt like one of the victims in a Final Destination film and the Reaper had my number and was trying to find ways to collect).
My most 'memorable', if I can call it that, happened around 30 years ago whilst in Nigeria on Xmas Eve where, I think, I narrowly avoided a 'rubber necklace'. I was sitting in the back of the car as we approached a manic bus stop at Mile One in Lagos, Nigeria. There were 5 lanes each side of a central divide but buses were stopped all the way out to the 3rd lane.
Suddenly the car in front of us swerved violently, to avoid a bus passenger taking his life in his hands by running out to his bus to ensure he got a seat, my driver wasn't so lucky, he span the car but it still smashed into the guy. On exiting the car we could see that the poor guy's jaw was practically detached, needless to say he was in a very bad way.
Instantly there was a massive crowd, eventually growing upwards of 500 people, and there was I, the lone white man in the middle. My driver was a nervous wreck and couldn't say a word. The crowd were very vociferous and agitated and, to my deep consternation, I could hear them voicing their anger and asking if the 'White Man' was driving and had done this. To my relief I heard voices clarifying the situation, that I had indeed not been driving but in the back seat. My 'Rubber Necklace' avoided (street justice - not waiting for the police to arrive, whereby a tyre is put over the 'criminal' and is set alight - not a nice way to go) I was now in the middle of a loud and animated debate on what to do with the injured man.
In Nigeria no ambulance was going to suddenly appear to help the poor sod. Half of the crowd were urging me to take him to hospital myself, the other half were warning me of the Nigerian Law that says if I put a hand on him in any way, and he dies before he is handed over to medical authorities, then I am legally responsible for his death !
Aware that he may indeed die if no-one did anything I spotted a soldier in the crowd, with a loaded weapon. I called him over and promised him what would amount to a week's salary if he would accompany us until we had handed him over to a hospital. He naturally agreed.
The soldier took up the shotgun position where his uniform was obvious and he could wave his credentials out of the window - this was to ensure we were waved through the numerous military check-points in Lagos. And the injured soul was put in the back seat with his head in my lap, he was clearly going into shock. This was way beyond my meagre medical knowledge, though I later qualified as a Rescue Diver and would have been more adept at handling shock thereafter.
We tried one hospital that turned us away, they were not equipped to handle this type of injury and didn't want the responsibility. We were directed to a large hospital, another hour away in Lagos' horrendous traffic (it had take us an hour to get to the first hospital).
We finally arrived at the main hospital and the emergency staff took him away. We sat around for 15 mins before they returned to tell us that he hadn't made it and had just died in the emergency room - a very sad Xmas for his family.
The police arrived and wanted to arrest my driver but I wasn't going to let that happen and told them they could accompany me back to the Holiday Inn where I lived and meet the 'Chief'. They instantly agreed, knowing the Chief would no doubt give them a back-hander. Our driver spent a couple of nights in prison and was then released, very grateful to me that I hadn't let the police take him away whilst in the hospital, otherwise he would surely have been beaten and extorted, despite the fact it really wasn't his fault at all.
I often wonder what would have happened if indeed I'd been driving (as I often did in Lagos), what if my driver had run away and no-one had spoken up for me to say I wasn't the driver, what if the solider had not been in the crowd, and what if the poor guy had died in our car before we arrived at the hospital ........
So, how have you avoided the Reaper's sickle so far ?
I've gotten away with a few close-calls in my life, in fact I'm well surprised I'm still here. I never thought I'd make it to 60 (well, almost. I still might not).
From falling out of tall trees as a youngster to hair-raising escapes (and crashes) on a motor-bike. From near gassing myself to death in the Royal Navy to diving under black-jack tables to avoid a nutter firing off a gun in an illegal casino in Amsterdam.
From having a knife held to my throat in same said casino, where I was working a croupier, to escaping from armed bandits trying to car-jack us in Nigeria, by driving our 4x4 over rough ground where the robbers' Santanas couldn't follow.
From avoiding a family disaster when caught up in the horrific Phuket tsunami to having my car crushed (1 day after returning from Phuket) by a sleeping driver in a massive articulated lorry, yet walking away from my written off wreck without a scratch (I felt like one of the victims in a Final Destination film and the Reaper had my number and was trying to find ways to collect).
My most 'memorable', if I can call it that, happened around 30 years ago whilst in Nigeria on Xmas Eve where, I think, I narrowly avoided a 'rubber necklace'. I was sitting in the back of the car as we approached a manic bus stop at Mile One in Lagos, Nigeria. There were 5 lanes each side of a central divide but buses were stopped all the way out to the 3rd lane.
Suddenly the car in front of us swerved violently, to avoid a bus passenger taking his life in his hands by running out to his bus to ensure he got a seat, my driver wasn't so lucky, he span the car but it still smashed into the guy. On exiting the car we could see that the poor guy's jaw was practically detached, needless to say he was in a very bad way.
Instantly there was a massive crowd, eventually growing upwards of 500 people, and there was I, the lone white man in the middle. My driver was a nervous wreck and couldn't say a word. The crowd were very vociferous and agitated and, to my deep consternation, I could hear them voicing their anger and asking if the 'White Man' was driving and had done this. To my relief I heard voices clarifying the situation, that I had indeed not been driving but in the back seat. My 'Rubber Necklace' avoided (street justice - not waiting for the police to arrive, whereby a tyre is put over the 'criminal' and is set alight - not a nice way to go) I was now in the middle of a loud and animated debate on what to do with the injured man.
In Nigeria no ambulance was going to suddenly appear to help the poor sod. Half of the crowd were urging me to take him to hospital myself, the other half were warning me of the Nigerian Law that says if I put a hand on him in any way, and he dies before he is handed over to medical authorities, then I am legally responsible for his death !
Aware that he may indeed die if no-one did anything I spotted a soldier in the crowd, with a loaded weapon. I called him over and promised him what would amount to a week's salary if he would accompany us until we had handed him over to a hospital. He naturally agreed.
The soldier took up the shotgun position where his uniform was obvious and he could wave his credentials out of the window - this was to ensure we were waved through the numerous military check-points in Lagos. And the injured soul was put in the back seat with his head in my lap, he was clearly going into shock. This was way beyond my meagre medical knowledge, though I later qualified as a Rescue Diver and would have been more adept at handling shock thereafter.
We tried one hospital that turned us away, they were not equipped to handle this type of injury and didn't want the responsibility. We were directed to a large hospital, another hour away in Lagos' horrendous traffic (it had take us an hour to get to the first hospital).
We finally arrived at the main hospital and the emergency staff took him away. We sat around for 15 mins before they returned to tell us that he hadn't made it and had just died in the emergency room - a very sad Xmas for his family.
The police arrived and wanted to arrest my driver but I wasn't going to let that happen and told them they could accompany me back to the Holiday Inn where I lived and meet the 'Chief'. They instantly agreed, knowing the Chief would no doubt give them a back-hander. Our driver spent a couple of nights in prison and was then released, very grateful to me that I hadn't let the police take him away whilst in the hospital, otherwise he would surely have been beaten and extorted, despite the fact it really wasn't his fault at all.
I often wonder what would have happened if indeed I'd been driving (as I often did in Lagos), what if my driver had run away and no-one had spoken up for me to say I wasn't the driver, what if the solider had not been in the crowd, and what if the poor guy had died in our car before we arrived at the hospital ........
So, how have you avoided the Reaper's sickle so far ?
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