As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 205 - Scary Concert & Road Rage Stories

Episode Date: December 13, 2025

Today, on the 205th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 8 True Chilling stories. These stories come from the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into The horrors that can occur at concerts as well as some terrifying Road Rage stories. Today's episode was PARTIALLY written by Tom K, Find his other works here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBVX81W7 If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to like or rate the podcast, and leave me a comment with your thoughts if the platform your own supports it! I upload episodes every 3 days, so there are 2 days between new uploads. The podcast consists of new scary story collections, Glitch in the matrix collections, and also what I call the "Dark Dreams" collections (which are older stories, remastered and layered with rain sounds). If you have a story to submit, would like to find where to listen to the podcast, or want to find me on social media platforms, all of that info can be found at https://www.astheravendreams.com You can also send stories into my subreddit (r/theravensdream) or email them to me at [e-mail] Want to check out some ATRD Podcast Merch? ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Or for signed merch ➤ https://ko-fi.com/AsTheRavenDreams I wrote a novel, "The Insomniac's Experiment" by Raven Adams! Check it out on amazon (Or you can email me for a signed copy!) Join Patreon to get early access and support the Podcast! ➤ https://www.patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Check out my gaming channel with my pal Ghost_Ink ➤ @superNefariousBros On YouTube Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in todays episode... AmberIOP, KevinOwnsABar, Tom K., Christine, DaveByDay, Kat Hanes As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 2:02 2 ➤ 10:56 3 ➤ 22:50 4 ➤ 33:46 5 ➤ 41:40 6 ➤ 56:42 7 ➤ 1:06:17 8 ➤ 1:13:29 ----- Disclaimer ➤ Episodes include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Listener discretion is always advised. ALL Audio and visuals on this podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format. Bless This Mess. None of my audio is AI Generated, I am a real person reading real stories into a real microphone. Note: The podcast nor the host endorses any advertisements played during the podcast, ads are not chosen by ATRD or Raven Adams, they are chosen automatically by the advertisement systems by the platforms that host the podcast. I do not endorse, support, or promote any opinions or statements made in any adverts played during the show. #ScaryStories #UnexplainedMysteries #RoadRageStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lazang sur-gillet, Puisance-Moyerned 15 minutes. Oh, you're like it's the hour Dojo? Prere to play. Vive the pleasure

with Leo Jo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-a-sou and the games to on Big Bas-Banza

without exiganceance of misgantane. Hey, I've gained! Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure Play-Ojo

18-D-M-E 18-N-LIN 20-tours on Toursesu $5BBas Bonanza Depos Minimimimimum of 10 dollars. Vososososos

$1 million to pay responsible. The conditions apply. We're saying, in the phone, all the world can be a guy of the finance. Not a good to have a gross

monger in art, to play on the golf or to be to be a pro of the crypto. Not even no need to be. You have always made

these affairs, and the apply negotiates-tit-t -tit-tete-t you add to renewing with your instinct of negotiation.

With the support 24-hour per-jour- any amount of minimum, and free-mensue money, you are made to be

for negotiate, and the apply the appellee-tit-tit-tit-t is made to you help Telecharge it right now. Fan of soccer, you could assist at a moment

historic. You could get the bien for the final of the Cup of the World of the FIFA with Visa. It's just

to have a card of credit visa BMO for participate. Inscribe you at BMO.com bar-oblic Concour.

The Reglements of the Concour Sapplic. Here we are in the middle of December. What happened to the year?

Uh, anyone else So like this year is just gone. I know I've been working a lot, like, every day, pretty constantly, since September. But it just feels like the year has disappeared on me. I don't know. Uh, hmm, I was going to say something, but totally forgot what it was. So let's just go on with what the stories are.

Today we have some concert slash music venue stories as well as some road rage stories. Both of these are new topics for the channel. I have done driving stories in the past. Um, but not road rage, not road rage centric. So, yeah, all these stories are intense and crazy and I guess minor content warning as well, because they're kind of depressing. Some of them are. And, yeah, um, I don't know. If you're in the northern hemisphere where it's currently winter, have you gotten any snow where you are? Do you get snow where you are? I'm in Minnesota, so yes, I get snow where I am. But even whenever I was, you? in Kansas. I could definitely say I was getting snow where I was. Um, I don't know if it's snowed in Kansas. I should look. It's probably snowed quite a bit by now because usually November is when it starts and then it gets kind of, you know, a little more harsh in December and January and February is in November. It's really heavy. So I don't know. I love the snow. Winter is my favorite.

Autumn is my favorite. Winter is my favorite. Spring is pretty cool. Not huge on summer though, but that's just me. Anyway, concert stories, road rate stories. Hopefully you enjoy them. If you do let me know, if not, that's totally okay to. And if you have a story to send in, go to as the raven dreams.com and click the button to send it my way, and keep being the amazing person you are. See you next time, much love and enjoy. This happened when I was in my mid-20s, right before COVID temporarily killed the concert scene, though I know for some it permanently killed it.

I went to a concert that honestly should have just been a fun night out. but it ended up being a let's not meet again encounter with a creepo. The show was at a mid-sized venue in town, not a massive arena, but bigger than a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. It could house somewhere between a few hundred to a couple thousand people at most, though, I'm going to be honest. I know Jack about venue size or how many people can legally fit in a box. That night, it was definitely at capacity, though.

There were a lot of people, and we were. We're all getting to know each other pretty well. If you get what I mean. The band playing was one of my favorites. They were the opener for the headliner. Loud, energetic kind of music that you'll regret in the morning. That's the kind of show it was. I usually went to these concerts with friends, but that night no one else was free, so it was just me.

This isn't a common thing. I really didn't like doing things like this alone, but I was really wanting to go, so I went. I made my way through the crowds, a handful of rows back from the stage, and I was there when they got on stage and started their first song. As soon as the first song ended, that's when it all started. At first it was subtle, just a bump from behind. He pressed against me just a bit too close.

Normally this would be just a thing that unfortunately happens in a crowd, but it didn't feel accidental. It kind of felt intentional, like he had pushed his body against mine on purpose. Again, it's something that does happen, creep's gonna creep. So I just took a deep breath, recomposed myself, and got into the second song that was now playing. Then, it happened again.

Except this time there was a hand that touched my side. I jumped and gave a bit of a startled yelp, definitely not something I expected. I quickly pulled away from his hand and turned around to see who the hell thought that that was okay. And that's when my stomach dropped. This guy wasn't even watching the stage. He was just standing there and staring at me. He was tall, mid-30s, I'd say, with the baseball cap and a hoodie pulled up.

No band shirt, no excitement on his face, just an empty expression staring down at me. He almost looked like he was literally there to just creep on people, not for the show. And somehow that was so much worse than it just being some drunk dude being a bit handsy at random. I gave him a, what the hell look, like raising my eyebrows and gesturing for him to move forward if that's what he was wanting to do, but he didn't pass me. He stayed glued to his spot just staring at me like he didn't understand what I was trying to convey. and moving his head to watch me as I moved to the side. I tried to get back into the music, but as soon as I turned around to watch the band,

I immediately felt impress against me again, this time closer and more, I guess, intimate, you could say. I could literally feel his breath on my neck, and that was just gross. At this point, I spun around and yelled, Back the hell up! I thought that he would get it. would say sorry or would react in some way, shape, or form, but he just stared at me again with no expression.

I was being rushed with adrenaline and was hitting a boiling point. I said screw it and shoved sideways through people, trying to find somewhere else to stand that was nowhere near him. I pushed off to the left side of the stage. I was on the right side initially and found another spot a little further back. When I stopped, I paused to look around to see if he was there too, but I didn't see him, so I thought I was safe. Of course, I wasn't, though. Within a couple of minutes, I felt another push against me, and when I turned around again, it was him. Same expressionless stare and silence.

It's hard to explain how terrifying it is to be surrounded by hundreds of people, and yet still feel completely, singled out. I wanted to yell, but the music was drowning out everything. I wanted to get help, but I wasn't really sure who I could go to to take care of this situation. Part of me was also worried that, if I pushed away or tried to run, he may escalate. He clearly had no issue being seen, had no problem with being noticed and yelled at or leered at or anything. So how far would he go? After staring at him for the duration of an entire song, it finally ended, and there was a small break in the energy. I bolted past him to the crowd, ignoring all the angry stares I was getting from people that didn't understand my predicament. About halfway to the back of the crowd, I looked back, and, shocker, he was about 15 feet behind me, following in my direction.

I think that was when it really hit me that this guy wasn't just being a cold. creep. It wasn't a coincidence. He was completely and totally focused on me. For some reason, I had caught this guy's obsession for the night, and he wasn't going to let it go. Thankfully, while I was pushing to the back, I noticed that there were marked security guards for the venue near the bar. I flagged one of them down and shouted that there was a guy that kept touching me and was following me and that it was really starting to freak me out. Thankfully, The guard took me seriously, because when he looked up and noticed the guy, his face changed to a look of aggression, and he stepped forward, blocking the man from coming any closer.

And, just like that, that guy's demeanor shifted. He went from that blank expression to a fake grin. He even laughed and shrugged at the guard, saying, I was just having fun, man, chill out. The guard wasn't buying it. He told the man to back off and walked me toward the balcony area, which overlooked the stage. He told me that he'd be by the bar all night in the same spot, and if that guy came anywhere near me, to tell him and he would take care of it. I thanked him and headed up the stairs to the balcony where I watched the rest of the show, though, to be honest, I really didn't feel like being there. I think I felt obligated, though, since I had paid for the ticket, so I had to see it through to the end.

The headliner came on and finished up the show, and thankfully the guy didn't come up toward the balcony. I did see him again after the show ended, walking through the crowd as everyone filtered out, looking around like he was trying to find something. I'd wager money that that's something he was trying to find was me. I actually sat up on the balcony for a while after the show ended, just to make sure that everyone did filter out and to make sure there was no way I was going to run into him again. The guard actually came up to see if I was still there, and he walked me to the front to make sure I didn't run into him, which I appreciated. At least, he genuinely seemed to care.

I'll never know what that guy's deal was, other than he was just being a really pervy creep. He never said a single word to me. By the way he followed me and kept following me, I have to make assumptions that he had malicious intent, but he just didn't get the chance to do what he wanted, like he was waiting for the right moment to, dare I say it, pounce. I haven't been to another concert since this happened for various reasons, though this was definitely one of the big ones. Any event that I do go to now, I refuse to go alone just in case.

I know it was kind of an empty event, but I feel like this all could have gone much, much worse if he got the chance to corner me. He did teach me one major life lesson, though. Sometimes the scariest people aren't the loud, rambunctious ones making a scene. Sometimes they're the ones who stay completely silent. Hey there, I think I finally have a story I can share with you about something that happened to me last year. I'm a 34-year-old woman, 33 at the time of this event. I work late shifts at this advertising and marketing firm.

I was still pretty new at this place. I'd been working there for two years, which, yes, still made me an amateur compared to all the people I worked with. Not that they ever treated me as below them, but they had just been there for ten-plus years. When I applied, I knew that it was a late shift, which was fine. Eventually I would move up and get a better one, but for now it worked for me. Sorry, I'm rambling, but just explaining why. I was out late. Anyway, it was around 9 p.m. or so.

That's when my schedule ended and I was heading home from work. The route I took was mostly highway as I lived right outside the busy city and then surface streets through some sketchy industrial areas before reaching my little duplex in the suburbs. It had been raining that night. I remember because I made a comment to myself about the one time that I did my hair, it would rain. I was pretty tired that night,

as I'd been doing overtime all week, and now that it was Friday, it was like my body knew it, and was barely holding together, ready to go home and heat up my leftover pizza, and then crash. I was about halfway home, cruising in the right lane,

listening to some music to keep me going on the last stretch. That's when I noticed this pickup truck come flying up behind me. The highway that I was on was a two lane, so I usually stayed to the right, letting people pass if they thought I wasn't going fast enough. I rarely went more than two or three over the limit, and that only happens when I get into a song, but for some people that's just not fast enough, so I stay to the right and let them be on their way. But not this guy, it seemed. There was a car to my left that was passing, but they weren't going much faster. The truck was riding pretty close to me, so I just slowed down a bit.

I didn't even break-check him, just enough so that the car on my left could get ahead of me to pass, which they did. I was thinking after they got back over, the truck would then pass both of us. I guess I was wrong. He didn't pass. He just remained behind me, maybe three feet from my bumper, for several minutes. I started getting a little nervous, maybe even a little annoyed. Why ride so close to someone when you have plenty of room and ability to pass them? So I decided to tap my brakes gently, not enough to slow down, but to just flash my brake lights as a, hey, back off, signal.

This was apparently the wrong thing to do. The truck honked and then immediately swerved into the left lane, and pulled. pulled beside me. I glanced over and saw this guy with his dome light on staring angrily at me. He was probably in his 40s, baseball cap, and looked like he was screaming at me through his window. I could see the strain or tightness in his neck as his mouth opened clearly yelling, but I couldn't hear anything he was saying, between his window being up and the road noise, and, of course, my music. nor did I want to know what he was saying.

I looked back at the road to ignore him when he honked. I looked back over and saw him gesturing wildly now with his right arm. Again, I didn't know what the hell he was actually saying or even what his problem was. He was the one who sped up to get behind me, and instead of getting over when he had every opportunity to, he tailgated me. He was making me uncomfortable, and I was making me uncomfortable, and I, I just wanted to move on, so I slowed down even more, hoping he would move on and just pass already. He did not. He slowed down to match my speed. Now we were both going about 50 miles per hour and a 60,

with him still in the left lane gesturing and screaming. We even had a few cars come up behind us, building up traffic, which never happened that late. I tried speeding up to let people around, but he literally kept pace with me. We were side by side, and now the car behind him was honking. He was in the passing lane and not passing, so he was the one causing the backup. This dance continued for probably five miles or so, and I didn't know what to do. There was a motorcycle that ended up passing him on the shoulder, and he swerved at him as he passed.

The motorcycle shouldn't have passed on the shoulder, too, but I couldn't blame him. He had the opportunity to get out of the situation, and unfortunately the truck almost hit him for it. This guy was insane, and I had no idea why he was doing this. My heart was racing at this point, and I didn't know what to do. I was still about ten miles from my exit,

and the cars behind us were clearly getting more and more impatient, based on them swerving to the sides. I considered exiting early just to get off the highway, but I wasn't thinking straight. I thought exiting and slowing down could be dangerous. What if he followed me and tried to hurt me? But even worse, what if he followed me home? So, I panicked, trying to decide if it was better to exit early or take my normal exit. Not that I had much time to think about it, because the truck swerved hard to the right,

slamming right into the side of my little car. I did my best to steady myself and look around to confirm if what I saw was real, and I saw two cars speed past in the left lane. This guy had slammed into the side of my car, and people just took the opportunity to get by. I was too afraid to grab my phone and try to call for help, afraid that if I took my eyes off the road, he would do it again. I remember screaming in my car for someone to help me, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

All the while, I looked over at this guy crying and screaming, What the hell do you want at him? Finally, I got a small grip on myself and thought that if he's going to try to kill or harm me, I wasn't going down without a fight. I dug around in my purse with one hand and grabbed my phone. I'm thankful for the emergency dialer, so I didn't even have to unlock the phone. I called and put it on speaker. My car didn't have any kind of Bluetooth connection because it is older.

I immediately began spouting off to this poor guy that I was being targeted on the road by some stranger, and that he had hit my car. I tried telling them what mile marker I was at when the guy tried slamming into me again. That time, I noticed and had swerved to the right to avoid. avoid it. I felt the rumble strips as I went over them and started fish-tailing on the wet pavement. I had dropped my phone into the passenger seat when I swerved, so I had both hands on the wheel. I was terrified that I was going to lose control completely and end up in the guardrail. I came to a complete stop on the shoulder, missing the guardrail, thankfully, and tried to

catch my breath. That's when I noticed that not only was there a vehicle that stopped behind me, but the truck also stopped in front of me. All I could think was, please tell me that this SUV is not with the truck guy. Turns out, I had gotten incredibly lucky, and before I could even grab my phone to see if the operator was still there, red and blue lights had kicked on. It was a cop, and I had no idea he was behind me.

I grabbed my phone to tell the operator when the truck burned out. The cop's door was open, but when the truck took off, he closed it and sped off with his siren on. I hadn't hung up yet, so I told the operator what had happened, and they asked me to stay where I was as another officer was on the way. I took a moment to collect myself when another cop showed up. I gave her my ID and details, and then explained to her everything that happened. She asked if I was okay or if I needed to go to the hospital, but physically I was. was fine. We documented the damage to my car when she got a call on her radio and asked me to give her a moment. When she came back, she asked me to describe the truck again, and I did. She then showed

me a picture on her phone of that same truck now with the front smashed into one of those median dividers. I confirmed it was the same one. She said with a smirk that her colleague had got him. Turns out, he was trying to get away from the cop, tried to take an exit at the last second, and was too late and then hit the divider. I got home late that night. The damage to my car was thankfully just cosmetic. My driver's side doors were dented, but I could still open it.

The other side just had scrapes along my side view mirror. Turns out, I had actually gotten really lucky that night. As the cars were backing up, that first, cop was one of the ones back there, and he too was trying to figure out what was going on. When the truck slammed into me the first time, he was far back enough that he hadn't seen it, but as he approached the line of cars, he saw the truck swerve at me unprompted, and saw me swerve to miss it. He was in the right lane, so he pulled over to the shoulder to be behind me. With the truck and I now out of the way, all the cars were flying by to continue on with

their business. But when the aggressive driver took off, the cop made the decision to go after him. The other officer that showed up was apparently his partner, and she explained what he saw. I was thankful that he was there to witness it because I had no clue why it happened, and how to make anyone believe me. I had done nothing to this guy, but he immediately decided to take all of his anger out on me. Thankfully, my insurance did cover the damage. The guy didn't have any, and in fact didn't even have his license. There was some legal stuff involved in order to get a final settlement, but like I said,

there wasn't a lot of damage and I had no medical bills. But I was thankful for it to all be over with. I still have no idea what prompted him to target me. He came flying up on me and was able to pass at any point. point. He was driving too close and all I did was tap my brakes. Nothing like this has happened since, thankfully, but I still do a double take when I take that highway or when a truck follows a little too close for my liking. I've had this story that I have been wanting to talk about for a long time. It's the kind of thing that feels unbelievable, almost unreal like

it happened to someone else. I guess it did technically happen to someone else, but myself and my whole family were very much affected by the whole thing. It's hard to explain. Maybe the word surreal is what I'm looking for, but I'll do my best to just give you the information of what happened without letting my personal thoughts or emotions get in the way of me writing it. My older brother, Mark,

was the kind of person that just, didn't get angry. The entirety of his life, he was the most chill person ever. You could insult him to his face, call him names, yell or threaten him, and not once had I ever seen him lose as cool. He was five years older than me and he was my rock. When I got my first car, which was an old hand-me-down from my uncle, he spent an entire weekend teaching me the basics of maintenance.

He taught me how to check the oil, and check my tires, how to change the tires if I ever needed to, and where the jack goes to lift the car. All the basic things that, even though they're simple, a lot of people just don't really know. Another thing he taught me was how to not be an idiot on the road.

He would always tell me things like, if someone gets on your tail and wants to pass you, just let them do it. It's not worth getting mad about or reacting to, because you never know what kind of crazy is behind that wheel. I think he lived by that rule. He was an incredibly patient driver. With that, out of the way, I want to get on to the day that everything happened.

I was about 17, which would put Mark at 22. He was working as a carpenter for a little local group working on a fairly major project, that was about an hour and a half away from our parents' house. Because Mark was always a family-oriented person, and he didn't have a girlfriend or kids or anything like that, he liked to come home for the weekends when he could. He would spend time with our dad and with me when I was available. I wasn't too busy or anything.

It was just that I had a part-time job at a sandwich shop, so when I wasn't at school, I was usually there. It was a Saturday. I know this because I had to work at noon, and I never worked on Sundays. Mark was home for that weekend, and I remember mentioning to him that my car had made a strange sound the day before, like a popping sound or something. He and I were talking about it, but I really couldn't get into it, so we came to an agreement. He would drive me to work in my car and then take it for a spin around town to see if he could replicate what

was doing. He was concerned that it was something that could become major, so he wanted to be the one driving it if something went wrong. I agreed. I trusted him to drive my car, no issues there. He drove me to my job. I told him I would be off at five if he could come pick me up, and he said that he would be there. Then, I watched him drive off. What I didn't realize, is that this would be our last conversation. This would be the last time that I ever spoke to my brother, and I hate that our last conversation was what it was. The rest of the story, unfortunately, is from secondhand reports,

so I can't tell you that every single bit of it is exactly how it happened, but I have to assume that it is accurate for the most part. These secondhand reports come from the police reports, and witnesses to the whole thing that happened, including my cousin who was actually nearby at the time. There was a stretch of road in town where three lanes merged down to two, and the speed limit drops five miles per hour. It was always a nightmare because merging and slowing down at the same time

seems to be one too many tasks for people on that road. Apparently Mark was in the middle lane, and a guy in a big black SUV was driving. in the right lane trying to get over. The driver of the SUV was a maniac, weaving left and then back to the lane that ended to pass people, and tailgating literally everyone he got behind. He was clearly in a hurry and was losing his mind to the slowdown of traffic.

The next part is speculation to some extent, but I would guess that Mark, being Mark, saw the SUV coming and what he was doing, and slowed down a little bit to let the guy pass. Mark wasn't passive-aggressive, and he wouldn't have done anything to block this guy or intentionally piss him off, and he would have done anything he could to prevent an accident.

It was reported that when the SUV passed in front of Mark, he slammed his brakes, hard. Mark was able to stop the car. He didn't hit him, thankfully. after this, the SUV driver just sat there. He stopped his car in front of Mark unmoving in the middle lane of traffic that was already slowing everything down. It was like this for several moments until someone hit their horn for him to go.

I don't know for sure that it was Mark, but what I've been told says that it was likely him that hit the horn, which is probable. Again, Mark wouldn't have laid it. on the horn or held it. He would have probably hit it once or twice, like, Hey, dude, move, please. At that point, it was reported that the SUV driver put his car in park, got out,

and then started to walk back to where Mark was stopped, a foot behind his SUV. Mark apparently rolled down the window and was just sitting there looking bewildered. The guy in the SUV was a huge dude, reported as being muscular, bald, and tattered up to the top of his head. He was screaming obscenities as he walked up to Mark's window,

and Mark put his hands up and said, Hey man, it's cool, let's just go. This maniac then grabbed the handle to the car and yanked the door open, and then started beating on Mark. He pulled him out of the car, and from what I was told, hit Mark's head against the door of my car multiple times.

Then, when Mark fell to the car, the ground, this guy kicked him in the face. The whole thing was over in a matter of seconds. Mark was lying on the ground unmoving, and the maniac just stood there for a moment and then walked back to his SUV and floored it. Just like that. The traffic started to flow around Mark in my car, and the only reason he didn't get run over was because a couple of other drivers had seen what happened and stopped to block

the lane. A couple moments later, the paramedics were on the scene and Mark was rushed to the hospital. This is where I have to control myself and try to just state the facts, because it is quite hard for me. The damage that Mark sustained when the man hit his head against the car was bad enough, but it was likely the kick to the face that actually did the most damage. Mark suffered from a subdural hematoma and a major brain swell. The bones in his face were destroyed. His cheekbone and orbital socket on the right were shattered.

The paramedics and the medical staff did everything they could to try to save him, but the end result was pretty much the worst outcome. Mark ended up in basically a vegetative state. There was literally nothing they could do to bring him back from it, and my parents had to make the call to take him off life support and let him go. Having to make that decision almost makes it worse. If the man had killed him, it would have been out of their hands. But instead, that monster left him teetering on the edge of life with no way to climb back up.

The worst part of all this, the one thing that kills me inside every time I think about it, is that they never caught the guy. He had a faded temporary tag on his SUV that no one could. remember or read. There was no security footage of it happening since this was before cameras and dash cams were everywhere, and the guy just vanished. It's entirely possible that he was just passing through our town on the way to his destination, and he and my brother ended up in the same place at the wrong time.

My family was devastated, completely ruined, because this psycho got mad at traffic, and mad at my brother for hitting his horn. The life my brother had, the promise he showed, was all ripped away so some lunatic could get his anger out. And then he got to go on and live his life normally. I have to assume that he's probably in prison for something else. No one crazy enough to commit murder in the middle of the street like that would stay free for too long. And I have to keep that assumption.

in my mind because it's one of the only things that keeps me going. Even if it's just pretend, I want to believe that my brother's killer is in prison for something else and that he will rot there. Mark lost his life way too young, over something so petty and pointless, all over a single act of road rage. I will always miss him, and I keep this idea of,

you never know what kind of crazy is behind that wheel, in the back of my mind every time I decide to drive somewhere because it was that same crazy that took him from me. I think from time to time everyone enjoys a good concert. I know that even I, it admitted shut and enjoy a good show from time to time. An exciting night out with friends, probably a few stiff drinks, and then a night of eardrum blasting excitement full of your favorite songs, a light spectacle, and of course, the pyrotechnics.

Who doesn't love a good pyrot display? Well, actually, there are probably a few people who can't stand them anymore. That's what our story today is about, pyro gone wrong. Though sadly in the field of pyrotechnics, there are many examples of pyrotone wrong. One Miss Q, one second off in timing, being one inch out of position. Ask the Undertaker. Mark Calloway, or James Headfield of Metallica. With pyrotechnics, there are so many things that can go wrong,

and that's exactly why you can only use them in certain venues that are deemed safe, and with proper permits in place. That's what really makes the story that I'm about to share with you all so truly tragic. It was completely avoidable. So we go now to the night of the tragedy. West Warwick, Rhode Island, February, 20th. 20th, 2003. At the station nightclub, people have gathered to come and watch a show

headlined by an offshoot band of Great White, called Jack Russell's Great White. With 462 people in the crowd, the club was already over capacity, with the official capacity of the club cited as 404. The foundation of the disaster are already coming together. During the band's opening song, Desert Moon, the Tours manager, Daniel Bichel

set off four pyrotechnics in the form of four gherbs. Two of the gherbs in the center were facing straight up with two flanking them at 45 degree angles. What the gherbs do are produce a controlled spray of sparks 15 feet for 15 seconds. Within seconds of the pyroids going off,

the acoustic foam caught fire and rapidly began to burn. The foam was on both sides and top center above the tree. drummer's alcove. Initially, it was assumed the fire was part of the act, and it wasn't until the fire reached the ceiling and the unventilated smoke began to get overwhelming that people began to realize otherwise.

The band played for a full 20 seconds after the pyro had finished. When they stopped playing, the crowd began to back away from the stage, and the band's lead singer, Jack Russell, very calmly said, wow, that's not good. Within 40 seconds, the fire igniting, the band was off the stage as the club's fire alarms sounded, for what little good it did, as it was not connected to any local fire departments. The club also had no sprinkler system installed, so within a minute the fire was spreading, and smoke filled the club. The fire was raging, and there was nothing to slow it down.

Within six minutes of the initial blaze starting, the entire club was engulfed. And at this point, we have to talk about something very grave, I'm afraid. Some of you may know or remember that there is actual footage of the fire that was recorded by one of the concert goers that night. While I am certain that it probably still exists somewhere, I very respectfully ask that you not seek it out. Moving past all that, let's look into all the things that went wrong before the night of the calamity. It's a bumpy road. getting to the night of the fire as the club already had a history of issues and citations. The building itself was built in the late 1940s and had many occupants during its lifespan.

In 1972, one such occupant was a restaurant called Julio's, who had a fire of their own during the time in the building. While there was no one in the building at the time, the interior of the building suffered significant damage. In 1991, the building was opened as a nightclub, which was purchased by brothers Michael and Jeffrey Dordarian in 2000. In the months preceding the fire, they had been cited for nine minor code violations. Yet, in both the November and follow-up inspection in December of 2002, the Warwick Fire Marshal, Dennis the Roke, did not cite the polyurethane the club used for soundproofing, which was against code, because the foam is in. is highly flammable.

Later on, Laroque would claim that he did not spot the foam during the November inspection because he had been upset over an illegal inward swinging door that he had previously asked to be removed. So, come the night of the concert in February of 2003, we have a perfect storm brewing, an overcrowded club that is not up to fire safety standards to begin with that is now packed beyond capacity.

Now, to be fair, the nightclub had been hosting heavy metal bands and 80s tribute bands that had used pyrotechnics, and everything had been fine. But that's how these things go, isn't it? When you're skirting the rules, everything is always fine right up to the moment that it isn't. And we know what the end result was, don't we? Well, kind of. An inferno engulfed the club in a matter of minutes. The second it became clear the blaze wasn't.

part of the show, the band abandoned the stage and now we have 462 people panicking, all trying to find the exits. People were trampled in the ensuing stampede. So many people were trying to crowd out exits at one time that they were becoming hopelessly stuck and entangled, unable to free themselves with an unstoppable tide of more panicking patrons, desperately trying to escape the smoke and flames. By the time everything was over, of those 462 concert goers, 100 of them had tragically lost their lives. 230 of them suffered non-fatal injuries. An absolute tragedy, catastrophe, whatever word you want to apply to it, it's probably befitting. The investigation that followed saw multiple civil and criminal cases filed. The person that had been in the person that had

ignited the pyro, tour manager Daniel Bachel, pleaded guilty to 100 counts of unintentional manslaughter in 2006, and was sentenced to 15 years in prison. However, he was released in 2008 after several families of victims advocated for his parole. The club's owners pleaded no contest and avoided trial. Michael received the same sentence as Bichelle, but was released in 2009 while Jeffrey received 500 hours of community service. Other legal actions were taken against Great White, as well as several other parties. As of 2008, all legal issues have been resolved, mostly in the form of financial settlements. All in all, not a great day for anyone.

I honestly can't tell you how I feel about the way the aftermath was handled. So, with that story being told, I let the events stand for themselves, and a lot of the events stand for themselves, and allow you all to draw your own conclusions about that. This was a rough one, folks, and thanks for sticking through it. It's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls Scarious Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real.

Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something. you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Hello. First, I wanted to say thank you for reading my story if you do, because I've been listening

to you for quite some time now. But also, I know that my story isn't the normal kind that you get. You typically tell stories from the people who experience it. Or, unfortunately, deal with the creeps and jerks out there. But this time, I was the jerk, to put it lightly. I was the person that changed the lives of at least four people. And believe me, I did not take it lightly. I take full responsibility for everything that happened.

And I know there are no excuses for my behavior either. I'm a much different person now, so everyone understands. But when I was in my 20s, I was not the same person I had. am today and I take this lesson very seriously because it could have turned out a lot worse back then I was a complete mess I thought I was just a confident driver which was really code for reckless and dangerous but I didn't care I rarely wore my seat belt unless I saw a cop nearby I regularly looked at speed limits as suggestions rather than law I even tell gated people who I thought were going to

slow until they got out of my way. I was the guy that everyone hated on the roads, and at the time, I didn't care. I was young, I thought I was invincible, and in the nice flashy car that I got with the money I saved up by myself, I thought it was earned. I did get a few speeding tickets before this, which I did dutifully pay off, but not without being an ass to everyone at the courthouse, which I'm also embarrassed. I was definitely living carelessly, and I regret it. The day everything changed started out as a normal crappy day.

My girlfriend and I had been fighting lately about everything and nothing. Money, my attitude, my priorities, you name it. That morning I left in a bad mood, so I knew when I got home we would probably pick up where we left off. My parents had been on my case lately, too, about me getting my own insurance plan. I had just been giving them money for my part of it, but after three speeding tickets, they didn't want me on their plan. Understandably so. And then my job always seemed to find a way to piss me off.

My boss decided that he wanted to act like he knew what was going on in the team, now that corporate was coming down, so he had been micromanaging everyone, so pretty much all of us were in bad moods. Needless to say, I was already in a foul mood when I left work that Tuesday evening at around 6 p.m. It was that time of year where the sun was just starting to set, so we had the nice orange skies going on. Probably about the only nice thing that evening. I just wanted to get home to play some stupid game, drink a beer, and forget about the world for a few hours. I was driving down a made road surrounded by commercial buildings trying to get to the highway.

The road was a single lane with a 30-mile-per-hour speed limit. I stopped at a red light, and after my light turned green, there was a car on my left that also turned, cutting me off. His left turn light would have been red because my straight light had turned green. I immediately honked my horn, clearly annoyed by this, and then went straight. Now I was behind this jerk, and not only did he cut me off, but he was also going under the speed limit. Again, I'm going to try to explain this in my mindset for that time in my life, so before anyone jumps at me in the comments here.

He was going about 27 miles per hour and a 30, when I normally go 5 to 10 over that. It made it feel like a crawl. I was pretty heated by this. if he wouldn't have cut me off, this wouldn't have been a problem. But since he did, I was already mad at him and growing more and more angry. So I did what I normally did. I started tailgating immediately, getting maybe three feet behind them.

They didn't even look up, so I flashed my brights at them a few times and then eventually left them on. The sun was starting to set, so I knew that he had to have seen my life. But again, he did nothing, not even adjusting his mirror. As my anger increased, I became more and more aggressive. We passed two speed limit signs, and as we did, I would honk and point at the sign, yelling at him that it's 30. I know that I would have looked insane to anyone on the outside, but to him, it was like I wasn't even there. He continued on at his speed, didn't glance up at me, didn't even flip me.

off. I had finally run out of any bit of patience I had left. I needed to pass this guy. I veered over a little to see if anyone was coming, and when I saw the opposite lane was empty, I took the chance. I swerved into the other lane, sped up to pass this guy, expecting to see some older person or maybe someone just not paying any attention to what they were doing. But instead, I saw a guy in his side.

30s, maybe 40s at the latest, who was wearing sunglasses and some kind of chunky Bluetooth earpiece. He was just driving normally, arm resting on the window, looking completely calm, his mouth moving like he was talking to someone or maybe singing. Either way, the guy pissed me off, so I flipped him off. He looked over at me, and at that moment, he looked confused and his smile was gone. This irritated me even more because how could he not understand why I was so annoyed with him? Either way, I was determined to cut him off, so I sped up to get ahead.

The problem with this is that what I was doing is very illegal and very dangerous. I was in the oncoming traffic lane and was so caught up in the rage that I didn't see the car coming toward me. I reacted quickly and hard swerved back over to the correct lane. I assume I barely gave the guy behind me enough space because he started honking, and he seemed to slowly put more and more space between us. The car in the other lane passed as normal. I made comments to the driver now behind me as I left him behind, and, once again, was not paying attention to the road in front of me.

Coming up faster than I could react was an intersection with a stoplight. My light was red, and there was no way that I could slow down in time. Now, running the red light was not good. It's not something I usually did, but I would deal with it. What I couldn't avoid was the sedan on the intersecting lane to my right trying to turn left. They had a green light, had every right. to turn.

And that here I was about to stop them, about to do the exact thing the guy behind me had done to me. Everything went in slow motion. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I was going to blow right through that red light at probably 45 miles per hour. I just remember thinking with perfect clarity, I'm going to kill them. The impact was devastating. I teabone their car right in the driver's side door. The sound was stomach turning, a horrible combination of metal crushing, glass exploding,

and then suddenly an awful silence. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt, of course, and I felt myself being lifted up. But I stiffened at that moment, and my head smashed into the windshield, and then everything went dark. The next thing I remember is someone pulling me out of my car. There were voices all around me asking my name, asking if I could hear them. My head was pounding and I could taste blood. But the worst part, even through the pain, was hearing a child crying somewhere in the background. It was heartbreaking, terrifying sobs, and it cut right through my confusion.

When they loaded me into the ambulance, one of the EMTs asked if I knew what happened. The only thing I could manage to say, and the only thing that came out of me was, I heft up. Because even in my concussed, shocked state, I knew this was entirely my fault. I was in the hospital for three days with a severe concussion, whiplash, cuts all over the top of my head, my face and arms from the broken glass. Somehow my head broke the windshield, but I didn't fly out, which is probably the only reason I was still alive. But those physical injuries were nothing compared to learning about all the damage I had caused.

I learned that the car I hit was a dad, a mom, and their four-year-old daughter. The dad, who was driving, ended up with some broken ribs and a fractured wrist. Mom had a concussion and bruises. Thank God, their daughter was in a car seat, which probably saved her life. She got banged up and pretty badly traumatized, I'm sure, but was okay otherwise. My car was totaled and completely unsalvageable. Their car was totaled, too. My insurance covered some of it, but since I was at fault,

and it wasn't something unavoidable like my car malfunctioning, I ended up having to pay nearly $30,000 out of pocket for their medical bills, car replacements, and other expenses. It took me a very long time to pay it off. The financial burden wasn't even the worst part. My parents were very disappointed in me. My dad tore me a new one about how irresponsible and stupid I was, and he was right. My mom didn't say much, but she cried a lot which hurt me to see. Then my girlfriend came to the hospital to check on me.

She said that she was happy to know I was okay, but after she helped me back home from the hospital, she broke up with me. She explained that we clearly weren't working out and that I needed to work on myself first. Again, I knew she was right. I knew that I was the problem. The only thing I had left was my job, and I barely had that.

My boss had no sympathy for me and still demanded the same amount of work. And since that was the only thing I had left, I dove right into it. I worked overtime, didn't have a social life, I didn't even have a car. I tried doing one of the taxis, but I was just burning money that I no longer had, so I started taking the bus. I could at least get bus passes that were cheaper. For months following, I had to go to court and plead guilty to reckless driving, running the red light. The judge said that I was lucky because if any of them had died, I'd have been looking at vehicular manslaughter charges.

I became a complete wreck. The guilt and shame was worse than the pain and physical healing ever was. I kept hearing that poor girls cries and there were a few times where I couldn't sleep at all, knowing how close I came to almost ending three lives because I was selfish and impatient. But, as horrible as this experience was, it absolutely changed me as a person. Gradually, I started to understand myself and my life. I couldn't afford a therapist, but I read books and watched videos. I focused on my attitude and how to express my anger.

I realized that I was channeling all of it when I drove. That was my escape, my way of letting it all out, but that wasn't healthy. I wasn't just going for a drive to clear my head. I was using the road as my punching bag. The changes that I made were gradual and the road was long, but I got there. I had to earn my parents' trust back, and I still don't think they fully trust me nearly two decades later. But I can tell they are proud of it. me. I never did get back with my ex, but I think that's for the best. We truly were just creating a

toxic environment for each other. I paid off the lawsuits. I have a used car, but it's also paid off. And my insurance is a little higher, as expected. But I'm a completely different person now. I wear my seatbelt. I go the speed limit, and I certainly don't lose my cool like I used to. I still do get peeved at people running red lights and things like that, but I handle it a lot better. So, there's my story. I nearly killed a family because I was mad at another stranger, a person that I never saw again.

Our lives could have been completely different, and for some reason I was given a second chance, and I certainly didn't take it for granted. So if anyone learns anything from this, just please, slow down, put on your seatbelt, and just let it go. Let the feeling pass and live your life. Because the few minutes you think that you'll save or the revenge you think you're getting will never be worth spending the rest of your life knowing that you destroyed someone else's.

I've been a bartender for a very long time. Before I owned my own bar, I worked at various small. smaller ones while I went through more training and getting the necessary licenses needed to open my own. One of the places I worked at included this tiny music venue that held maybe 150 people max, with a stage that was basically just a raised platform in the back corner. The bar ran along one wall, and from my position I could pretty much see everything that happened in the place. That one was probably one of my favorites, because there was always some kind of. kind of event happening.

I got paid to listen to some great music while mixing drinks and meeting many people. But then I've also been trapped there when the bands were pretty terrible and would have clenched my teeth as I listened to off-key vocals and guitars that needed better tuning. But the customers typically kept me busy

between making their drinks and corralling those who had too much to drink. Most nights were pretty standard. Local bands, regular craft, typical bar drama, but there was one night that I would never forget. It was some kind of discount fall concert. There was a large one happening the week prior with some bigger and popular bands in the venue I worked at was wanting to do something similar, but smaller, for those of us that couldn't dish out that

kind of money, but still wanted to party. They got two local bands into popular cover band, so they did decently with the lineup, too. The concert started out pretty normal, people getting drinks as they came in. I noticed this guy pretty quickly that was on a mission to get wasted and hit on every woman in the place. I was familiar with the type, probably mid-30s, wearing a shirt that was too tight, sunglasses indoors, and a backwards cap. He was buying drinks for himself, and then offering to buy drinks for literally any woman who approached the bar. Like I said, I've seen his type before.

The guy that thinks if he buys enough drinks, someone will be impressed by his generosity. What actually happens, more often than not, is he spends $200 plus getting rejected all night while I collect his money and try not to laugh. This dude was particularly persistent, though. Every single woman who came to the bar got the same offer from him. A pretty smile, some kind of pickup line and motions for me to get them another drink. The success rate was about what you'd expect. Zero.

But hey, his money was good. He was paying for everything up front, no tabs, so I kept serving him. My boss, the owner, had a pretty clear policy about when we could cut people off. Either at closing time, or if they were clearly too drunk to function. Stumbling around, causing problems, that kind of stuff. As long as someone could walk and wasn't being aggressive, the drinks could keep going. He also wasn't being aggressive to the women that he approached.

If they said no or walked away, he let them go, not even trying to stop them. So, I guess he had some dignity. If he had done any of that, I would have been inclined to kick him out. I was the youngest kid with three sisters, a wife, and a young daughter, and I was raised to be pretty protective. This guy made it through the first band just fine. a little buzzed but was handling himself okay.

By the second band, he was definitely feeling it more, getting louder and more animated with his pickup attempts. The rejections were piling up, but he seemed to be taking them in stride, just moving on to the next woman with the same tired lines. Then came the break between the second and third bands. That's when things started to pick up a bit. He came up to the bar and started making these weird requests. He wanted some kind of shot that you basically served on fire.

I looked at him like he was crazy. I remember telling him, Bro, this is a dive bar in a basement. We've got beer, shots, and basic mixed drinks. We don't deal with fire here. But he was just as persistent with me. He was begging me to just light one on fire for me, please, just one, the girls will love it. I'll tip big.

I stayed polite but firm and told him that it wasn't. going to happen. We didn't have a setup for that kind of thing, and it wasn't safe. Finally, he gave up, ordered another beer, and wandered back toward the crowd. Not even ten minutes later he came back, empty-handed, asking for one more shot. Either he'd left his beer somewhere, or he had chugged it that fast. Either way, he was drinking too much. I didn't want to, but I knew I was going to have to cut him off. I gave him one. I gave him one more hoping the band would start soon and distract him, but I told him that it was his last for the night. He nodded, telling me he understood, and slid to the end of the bar where two

women had been sitting and talking. That's when things went downhill. He held up the shot, showing the woman, and I heard him say, hey, check this out. I was just beginning to help someone else when I heard him say it, so I turned to check. He had pulled out a lighter and was holding it toward the glass. I yelled at him to stop, already walking toward him, and he noticed. It was too late, though. He had lit the glass on fire, and clearly, having never done that before, he went to pour it in his mouth. And then he completely missed. In case you haven't before, there's a technique to drinking those. Immediately trying to toss it back is not the way to to do it.

This guy, however, was too intoxicated for anything that required technique. I wasn't fast enough, and as he poured it, missing his mouth, the whiskey and flames went across the lower half of his face and chest. The screaming was immediate and terrifying. It was the kind of screams you hear in movies and shows. This was raw, primal terror and pain coming straight from this man. He started running around the bar area, batting at his face and chest, which only made it worse, spreading the flames around, as you could imagine. You think someone would remember the old stop, drop, and roll from elementary school, but not quite when you're drunk and panicking.

This guy was just running in circles, and I was trying to find the best way to jump in and put him out. The crowd really wasn't much help either. Most of them were just trying to stay away from him while a handful of people holding water bottles shook it out. towards him, not doing much but making the floor wet. Finally, I was able to find a good opening, and as he ran past me, I tackled him to the ground, patting him with my damp towel that I had. Once he was down, a few others jumped in, dousing him with water too and asking what they should do. I told one of them to call 911, and I tried to get the guy's attention.

He was groaning, in a lot of pain, but he was giving some answers and very short ones. I wasn't a doctor or anything of the sorts, but the main thing I could think to ask him was if he could breathe, and he responded yes. So we were making progress, I guess. But the damage had already been done, a couple of times over, too. His face was red and blistered. His shirt was mostly burned away. Whatever it was made of burned really fast. His hair was also singed along his face.

The smell was god-awful. the burning flesh and hair, not to mention body odors and beer all around. I wanted to gag and felt bad, but it was bad. It wouldn't have been so bad, but his eyes were wide open. His face was red and blistered, so I know that he saw me do it too, but after all of that, even with the amount of pain and fear that he was in, he reached his arm out, grabbed my arm and said, Hey, thank you.

Finally, the paramedics arrived, and they immediately went to work on him. They loaded him up and whisked him away. Clearly, there were some problems with us continuing the show, so we sadly had to cut it, but the third band was pretty cool and apparently played a little acoustic set out in the parking lot while the rest of us cleaned the place up, checking for any residual fire hazards. That was probably one of the craziest things I'd witnessed during my time bartending there, The smell stuck with me, and the terrified look in his eyes really stuck with me. I had another crazy story from a different bar I worked at where two guys got into a fight,

pulled out knives, and it became a literal bloody mess. And to add to the craziness of that whole situation, the two guys were friends. But maybe if I have time, I'll write that one up for you as well. Moral of the story, if you're going to drink, just leave the fire out of it. Please. In August of 1969, the music festival Woodstock went off wonderfully. It went so well in fact that the Grateful Dead decided to do a concert on the West Coast that would be free for all to attend.

This all sounds wonderful, one of the most popular bands of the 60s with a star-studded cast of people slated to perform, including Santana, Crosby Stills, Nash and Young, and the Rolling stones. With all these stars and with tremendous fanfare, the show was well on its way to being organized and ready to kick off on December 6th of 1969. However, what was meant to be a celebration of that free love spirit of the time would turn into something that is still remembered, just not for the reasons people would have liked for it to have been remembered. The plan was to host the concert at Altamont Speedway in Livermore, California. and there were little worries about the venue or being able to accommodate what was expected to be an absolutely humongous crowd.

The one pressing issue, though, that had not been addressed, was security. The Grateful Dead and the group Jefferson Airplane suggested to the Rolling Stones management that they should book the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club for security for the gig, as they had used them in the past and had no incidents. And thus, the Hells Angels were booked as security for, $500 worth of beer. But this would be quite a fateful decision.

But then again, I have a lot of hindsight here to say something like that. There is a lot of dispute over just what role the Hells Angels were meant to play at that concert. Sunny Barger himself has said that there was no agreement for them to be security of any

kind, that he and his quote, boys, were invited to drink beer and enjoy the show until it was over. Other accounts say that they were just meant to keep people from rushing the stage. Others claim they don't even know why the angels were there to begin with. The show began with Santana performing, a set that was fairly uneventful. However, as the day dragged on, more people were getting high and drunk and inevitably

getting more restless, as they enjoyed their respective buzzes. The angels and the crowd were getting more irritable, and violence was beginning to break out, as stoned hippies began trying to climb onto the stage, and the angels were beating people up and throwing them off the stage back into the crowd. Things began to escalate as the angels began to arm themselves with sawn off pool cues and bike chains. When someone from the crowd knocked over one of the angels' bikes, things really started to get heated. The angels got even rougher with the crowd,

and even started to get more aggressive with the performers. Marty Bailen of the group Jefferson Airplane jumped off of the stage during their set to try to sort out whatever the issue was, only to be knocked unconscious by one of the hell's angels. Paul Cantor, the guitarist for the group, sarcastically thanked the angels for knocking out their singer, which provoked Angel Bill Freach, who grabbed one of the microphones and began to yell and argue with the musician about the incident. The Grateful Dead, the primary organizer of the event,

were supposed to be playing in between the Crosby Stills Nash and Young in the Rolling Stones. But once they heard about the situation with Bailen, they refused to play a set and left the venue. When Crosby Stills Nash and Young took the stage, things did nothing but further deteriorate, when Stephen Stills was stabbed in the leg by a Hells Angels with a sharpened bicycle spoke. By the time the Rolling Stones came out to play, it was utter chaos. The angels were fighting the crowd,

the crowd was fighting amongst themselves. It was just an incredibly violent ordeal at this point, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, it of course does. A member of the crowd, a young man named Meredith Hunter, aged 18, had attempted to climb onto the stage with other concert goers, only to be punched by an angel and tossed back into the crowd. Meredith was reportedly so high he could barely stand, but he was angry, and, out of the crowd.

and out of his mind on drugs. And he came to the front of the crowd, right at the foot of the stage, and drew a gun. Reportedly he was pointing it at Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones. That's when Hell's Angels Paul Pissarro left into action, allegedly pulling a knife from some say his belt, others say his boot, the knife was tucked into his sock.

It once armed, he rushed Hunter and knocked the pistol away with his left hand and then stabbed Hunter twice in the head with his right hand, killing the young man. In the documentary, Give Me Shelter, it is revealed that Eric Sarin was on the stage recording and taking pictures of the crowd. Sarin was unaware at first that he had caught the killing on film until a week later, when the raw footage was screened.

The entire sequence is roughly two seconds long, and you can see the crowd part and then Hunter appears front and center in his bright green soon. suit, with the silhouette of a revolver clearly in his hand, visible against the light-colored vest of the person next to him. Pissarro comes in from the right and parries the gun and then stabs Hunter twice, then pulls him off screen. Later on, it's reported he stabbed Hunter five times in the upper back, and once he was on

the ground, several other angels began to stomp on and kick him. The autopsy did confirm that Hunter was high on amphetamines at the time of his death, In 1971, Pissara was charged with murder and taken to trial. After watching the footage shot at the concert, it was ruled self-defense and Pissara was found not guilty, acquitted of all charges. This was not the only violence that occurred over the course of the day and into the evening. All told, there was the killing of Meredith Hunter, three additional accidental deaths, numerous assaults occurred between members of the crowd that began turning on itself at a certain point. Multiple cars were stolen and abandoned, and there was also massive property damage that occurred during the chaos.

All told, the concert that was meant to spread the love carried over from Woodstock instead became a violent riot that saw multiple people lose their lives, and so many more injured. I guess the only question that remains is, was this a constant? Is the concert always doomed to be a tragedy, albeit of a different kind? Or was it the presence of the most notorious biker club in the world that set things on the disastrous course they ultimately went on? That, we will never have a true answer to. But we are all, of course, allowed to speculate on it. Hi, Raven.

I'm a 31-year-old woman, and I've been listening to you for a long time. What I appreciate most is how calm and unbiased your storytelling is. You let the stories breathe and speak for themselves. Thank you. I do my best. I heard you were asking for road rage stories, and I figured that now is the perfect time to share mine. For a little background, a lot of people change once they get behind the wheel.

I know, because I was one of them. My husband and I loved driving fast cars, and we can tell when someone wants to, quote, play. For years, I carried that edge of aggression with me on the road. About 30 months ago, though, I quit drinking, partly because we wanted to try for another child, partly because I was tired of the haze. Quitting cleared my mind, but it also made me emotional. Behind the wheel, that volatility came out. I worked hard since then to manage it, and I still, and I still, still drive assertively, but the true rage is gone.

I say all of this because I understand road anger. Anger usually comes from fear. When someone cuts you off, it scares you, and that fear morphs into rage. But nothing in my past prepared me for what happened that day. My two sons, E, who was eight, and N, who was just over two, were with me on the way back from my first appointment with a new trauma, therapist. My mom had been too sick to babysits, so I had no choice but to bring them with me. The appointment was in the city, about an hour from where we live now. The streets there aren't

confusing, but they're busy. The main road runs straight with traffic lights, and side streets feed into it with stop signs. I was at one of those side streets waiting at a stop sign to cross the main road. Parallel to me, another side street also. so ended in a stop. I watched a car pause there, weighed its turn, and then make the turn correctly. But the next vehicle, a beat-up van,

literally held together with bungee cords and duct tape, did not stop. It came flying around the corner and cut straight across. I started across when the road was clear, but the van nearly clipped me. My car's emergency braking kicked in. I laid on the horn,

furious. The van finally stopped dead center as if daring me. This was now a quiet, narrow neighborhood road, two lanes. No traffic in the opposite direction. So I went around the van. I had barely gone five feet when I realized that they were right on my tail, so close that I could see the woman driving clear as day. I slowed scanning for somewhere to pull off,

figuring I could let them pass and maybe get their plate. But the moment that I edged toward the shoulder, the passenger door of that van flew open. A man jumped out and sprinted toward my car. Everything in me froze. I never put the car in park. Instinct told me that I might need to run someone over or take off. For context, my two-year-old N was strapped rear-facing in his seat behind the passenger side. He was born premature, under two-pastroar.

so I kept him in the rear facing as long as possible. My stepson E sat quietly behind me on the driver's side. The man was maybe mid-20s. He said nothing, just started pounding on my passenger side window hard. I knew that car windows aren't easy to break, but he tried like hell. Thirty seconds felt like 30 minutes. When he couldn't break it, he yanked at my side-view mirror. I glanced in the rearview mirror, and the van had pulled a little farther back, maybe a length and a half,

leaving me just enough space to reverse into the cross street behind me. I should have kept going forward, but fear makes you think strange things. I yelled at E to get down. My toddler was screaming by then, and I shifted into reverse. As I backed up, the van followed. The man who would have been at my window, ran to the back door and started beating on it. And then a second man climbed out.

He had a gun in his waistband. At that moment, the driver rolled her window down and shouted at them, and I'll never forget her words. Get back in the car. I didn't know she had her kids with her. The second man sneered at me. The second one spit through the crack of my barely opened window into my car onto me and onto the seat. He had started coming toward my side. That was it.

I hit the gas. I swirred forward just missing him. My sons were crying and screaming. My hands were shaking so bad that I could barely dial 911, but I managed to call my husband once I got far enough away. When I finally stopped, I checked on the boys. N was still hiccuping with sobs but calming. E was pale,

silent and absolutely terrified. For weeks after, he had nightmares. Even now, he still scans the road nervously when we drive. I've lived through a lot of trauma in my life. I've made mistakes. I've rebuilt myself and I'm still healing, but at this moment, being boxed in with my children while strangers tried to attack, etched itself into me and into my kids.

I am proud of how far I've come, but that day, well, that day reminded me why I needed therapy in the first place. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If the platform you're on has the option to follow podcast and you enjoyed my work, please do consider doing so. Also, leaving ratings and reviews are super important for the Algon. to support the growth of the podcast. I'm just one guy doing this. I don't have a team.

It's literally just me doing everything. So any support like that is greatly appreciated. Never expected, though. So if you go above and beyond with that, I do appreciate it. Some platforms also allow you to leave comments, and if you feel inclined to do so, please do. I would appreciate that. I do have a Patreon in a merch store that you can also check out.

If you want to support a little further, the Patreon site of things, get you early access to all of my content. It is formatted differently as it goes in line with what my YouTube channel is, but it is the same stories, just different collections. There is also a website, astherravendreams.com, where you can check out pretty much everything about me, my social media platforms,

fiction stories I've written if you want to read those, as well as submitting your own stories, which there's a big button on the front page you click to do so. And those stories basically keep the podcast alive to me. be honest with you. So, yeah. All that said, friends, I do hope that I see you again here very soon. Until then, remember that you are loved, that you are valid, that you are important. You're the best you that you can be. Don't forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.