Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 5x21: The Wrench - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: March 29, 2021

 Stories in this episode: -The Woman On Whites Bridge - Sturrux. -The Peephole - Jasmine. -The Wrench - Anon. -My Mom Jinxed Me - Parker. -Whole Foods Man - Stella Marie. -Forced Uber - MJ. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to [e-mail]. Get access to weekly bonus episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast, ad-free versions of the free shows and a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family!  Thanks to Sapphire Sandalo (Stories with Sapphire), Soren Narnia (Knifepoint Horror), Shelby Scott (Scare You To Sleep), Christine Scheifer (And That's Why We Drink), and Em Schulz (And That's Why We Drink) for appearing on the live stream season finale! Check out their shows wherever you get your podcasts! Dark Air with Terry Carnation premieres April 1st and releases new episodes every Thursday. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Get a special offer that includes a 4-week trial PLUS free postage and a digital scale. No long-term commitments or contracts. Just go to Stamps.com, click on the Microphone at the TOP of the homepage and type in MEET. Feals has me feeling my best every day and it can help you too.  Become a member today by going to Feals.com/meet and get 50% off your first order with free shipping. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/retroxpizza/   

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This podcast contains adult language and content. The stories in this show can be disturbing and frightening for some. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh

1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh 1 tbh Hello and welcome to the season 5 finale of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. As we did with the end of season 4, we did a live stream episode over on my Twitch channel.

What you're hearing tonight is simply the audio that I ripped from all of those videos that we did. So the audio may sound a little off and a little weird in between each story as we all recorded in our own respective homes. But I did my very best, as always, to make it sound as good as possible. Now I say we, I'm referring to myself and my guests returning to the show, Soren Narnia of Night Point, horror, sapphire, sendalo of stories with sapphire, Shelby Scott of Scary to Sleep, and Christine Sheifer and M. Schultz of,

and that's why we drink. We've all become great friends, and it was a pleasure having them on, and I'm sure we'll see them plenty more in the near future. For now, enjoy this live stream presentation of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast, and I'll see you all next weekend for the season 6 premiere. Enjoy! This happened way back in October of 2006. At that time, I was just a 19-year-old kid, always on the lookout for adventure. One Friday night after wrapping up my shift at McDonald's, I met up with some friends who suggested that we check out this haunted location called

White's Bridge. My one buddy, Brandon, said that he had recently learned about it and began to tell us the legend associated with the 100-year-old wood-covered bridge. Never wanted to turn down a spooky experience, we all piled into my Ford Taurus and headed out on our journey. Brandon gave us directions, guiding me off the road, and within minutes, we were on a dirt back road, surrounded by woods and corn fields. Our only point of reference was a blinking cell tower off in the distance. We could tell we were getting further from the city, as our cell phones began to slowly lose service. As we rode deeper and deeper into what legitimately felt like the absolute middle of nowhere,

Brandon repeated the legend associated with the bridge. Back in the early 1900s, a local farmer discovered that his beloved wife had been cheating on him, and in a fit of rage, he killed her and her lover upon discovering them in the act. After committing this cold-blooded murder, the farmer left his home and wandered the dirt roads in a day. He eventually came upon White's bridge, where the realization of what he had done finally sank in.

He decided that he would rather die than face the consequences of his actions. He hoisted a rope up and over one of the bridges rafters and hung himself. As far as I can tell now, the story is complete fiction, but we totally believed it at the time. After a long and bumpy ride, Brandon instructed me to turn right onto an off-road. I wouldn't even have noticed it if he hadn't pointed it out. I took the turn, and there before us was White's Bridge. It looked like something straight out of a horror film, an old wood-covered bridge aged by time sitting alone above the river deep in the middle of nowhere. We parked the car on the side of the road and got out to explore.

Immediately catching our eyes was a scarecrow lying abandoned at the entrance of the bridge. My friend Mike, who was somewhat of a risk-taker, and a stupid one at that, picked up the scarecrow, and lit it on fire. The hay-body burst up into a ball of flames, and Mike waved it around proudly next to the old dry wooden bridge, realizing the risk I told him threw that damn thing into the river and put it out." Thankfully he did. After making sure that there weren't any rogue embers that could ignite the bridge, Brandon suggested that we get back into the car and pull it onto the bridge. He explained that the legend was that if he parked your car in the middle of the bridge,

put it in neutral and killed the engine, the spirit of the dead farmer would push the vehicle forward and killed the engine, the spirit of the dead farmer would push the vehicle forward and off the bridge. Naturally, we had to try this. We piled back in and did exactly as he said. We parked halfway across the rickety old bridge and killed the engine. We sat in the pitch-black, saying nothing, waiting for something, anything to happen. The only sounds were the creaking of the bridge, the river flowing beneath us, and footsteps. Suddenly the back driver's side door opens, and a woman abruptly enters the back seat, cramming in next to my two friends. She looked to be in her late 20s, maybe early 30s, long straight black hair, very slim, and wearing a plaid shirt in blue jeans. It's been a while, but this is essentially how I remember the conversation going.

I saw your fire signal for me. She said, wait, what? I replied totally freaking out and at a complete loss for words. I'm so glad you came. My boyfriend's car broke down that way. I need a ride back. My brain wasn't doing the best to compete the situation. I'm sorry, but who are you? I asked. What are you doing out here? I told you, she responded. My boyfriend's car broke down over there. Can you please just give me a ride so I don't have to walk all the way back?" She pointed forward towards the narrow road that forked off to the right on the other side of the bridge.

My friend Mike, the scarecrow burner, and ever the gentleman added, I mean, if you need a place to stay, you're more than welcome to come crash at my place like I've plenty to drink. I interrupted him. No, listen, lady, I'm sorry. I don't know who you are. You just got into my car and this is all really weird. You could be an ax murderer for all I know, and I'm sorry, but you have to get out. She glared at me in the rear view mirror.

If looks could kill, I would have been done for. But you signaled me," she responded. We weren't signaling for you. Get out. She let out an angry sigh, got out and started walking back in the direction which she came from. She disappeared into the night. I started the engine right up and looked at my friends.

They all had looks of disbelief on their face. Without saying a word, I put the car in drive and slowly rolled forward and off the bridge. We needed to turn around to go back across the bridge to get back to where we had come from. And the only way to do that would be to pull on the side road that the woman said her boyfriend's car had broken down on, and then reverse. As I pulled onto the side road, my headlights illuminated

three posted signs that hadn't been visible from the bridge. No trespassing, private property, and do not enter. Looking up the road, there was, and do not enter. Looking up the road, there was no sign of the woman. Wherever she went, it didn't appear that she went that way. I don't want to stick around, though. So I back up and cross the bridge again, and from there we began the journey home. We didn't have much to say on the ride home. I think we were all equally stunned, except for Mike, who asked if we knew anyone that

would be awake at this hour, so we could score some weed. I visited White's Bridge a couple of times after that, but nothing of note happened in my subsequent visits. Sadly, some delinquents burned down the old white bridge some years ago. It was rebuilt. But from what I hear, it's just not the same as the original. I don't have any plansfire Podcast and a web series.

You can find new animated videos every other Wednesday at youtube.com slash Sapphire Sendalo and on the Wednesdays in between that I released new podcast episodes wherever you listen to podcasts and that's Sapphire with two piece. Thanks again Angie for having us all come on the show. I really appreciate it. I am from Mesa, Arizona and one, my mom and I decided to drive out to Yusemite National Park for some exploration. Now, my mom is very hippy-dippy and doesn't love to plan things out, so this was one of those trips where we had no itinerary, no timeline, no places to stay ahead of time.

That was tough for me to wrap my head around, but I'm known to be pretty uptight and rigid, so I thought that it might be a good opportunity to challenge myself and learn to go with the flow. On the last day, we hiked a lot and tuckered out kind of early, so we decided to drive to a nearby town and start looking for where we might stay that night, before we had to start the long drive home.

We initially went to a motel, but it seemed a little run down and definitely overpriced, so I pushed to try somewhere else. We eventually ended up at a quaint, but nice hotel, and I felt way more comfortable with the overall vibe, so we got a room and started to unload our stuff. When we got up the stairs and unlocked the door to enter the indoor hallway, we immediately saw a man sitting at the end of the hallway just looking at us. My mom and I didn't say anything to each other or even glance at each other, but I know that we both felt the energy of the entire building shift. I immediately felt that pit in my stomach, chills up my arms, tears, welling in my eyes, and an urgency to be on high alert.

There was nothing obvious to make me feel this way. I didn't see a weapon. He didn't move. he didn't say anything. But I still knew something was wrong. Part of me almost wanted to turn around and just get out of there, but the elevator was really slow and secluded. And I was scared that the man might head our way

before the elevator got to us and closed its doors. So we hustled into our room, all the while keeping the sky in our line of sight. We locked the door and started to settle in. Still feeling weird, but definitely less exposed than before. We knew we needed to go back down to the car to get the coolers of food and a couple of other things, and even though neither of us said it,

I knew that we both felt uncomfortable about going back out there. We almost opened the door, but something told my mom to look through the people before making a move. So she did. And there he was, his face staring back at her. She immediately recoiled and whispered, he's right there. I wasn't disbelief at first, but I looked through the people too and sure enough. There he was, with some of the darkest eyes I've ever encountered, and I'm not talking about the color. My heart immediately started pounding, and we didn't know what to do.

We deadbolted the door and kept monitoring him through the people. There were times where it looked like he'd left, but you could tell from the shadows that he was on the ground, looking under our fucking door. Once he started doing that and trying to doorknob, I started calling the front desk, who apparently doesn't answer their phone until like six tries in.

I started whispering the situation to the person at the front desk and trying not to cry. The woman on the phone said that she was going to send security to us, so I hung up. And we started moving furniture in front of the door, just in case. After a few minutes, security still wasn't there, so I continued calling until they arrived. My mom and I listened through the door as a security guard questioned him, received no answers whatsoever, and escorted him out.

Needless to say, even after the man was supposedly gone, we did not open the door. We did not go downstairs to get the rest of our things, and all we ate that night were the tic-tacs I had in my purse. The next morning, we moved the furniture back to its proper places and gathered the courage to hustle out of there. My mom argued with the front desk while I ate all of the hash browns in the hotel.

And then we left. Safe and sound. To this day, I don't know any details about the man. I don't know how we got inside. You needed a key cart to enter the hallway. I don't know if he was drunk or high or just supremely creepy, as he was not answering any of the security guard's questions. Literally, homeboy did not say a single fucking word. And I don't know what he was planning to do that night. I don't know what happened to him after that evening either. All I know is that I could feel his energy from the other end of the hall, and

it was the first time in my life where I felt like I was actually in immediate danger. Though my mother and I are now estranged, I am still so grateful that she felt the need to look through the people that day, because it was that small instance of listening to her intuition that probably saved us from something far worse. Hi, we're the Goo Goo Dolls. We're fortunate that our daughters have what they need to grow and learn, but that isn't the case for nearly 13 million kids in the U.S. that struggle with hunger. Childhood hunger is a heartbreaking reality that feeding America is working to change. Each year, the feeding American network of food banks restues billions of pounds of

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more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. Early one Saturday morning about a year ago, I left my third floor apartment and took the elevator to the lower parking level to pick up some tools for my locker. As I got to the locker and tried to put the key in the lock, which is accessible through a heavy-duty steel door, I realized something was wrong. The steel door handle was bent downward at about a 45 degree angle. Just waking up, I was a bit confused about what was happening. Then it slowly kicked in that someone had tried to break in.

Given that the door handle and my key were functionally useless, I tried to open the door and remained locked, so I assumed and hoped that no one had gotten in. I went back up to the front desk on the main floor and said to the young concierge that someone had tried to break into my locker and asked if we could review the video footage. She obliged and said I could also come around the desk to see what had happened. She rewound the video until about an hour and 15 minutes before where we finally saw a man wandering around

in the video frame, then coming to my locker and hitting the door handle with some object. It was difficult to see too many details about him. The camera was far away, and the image was a little blurry. After some time, we saw him give up and walk out of frame. I couldn't get into my locker, which was a big deal. But my curiosity got the best of me to see if other lockers had been broken into.

So I walked back down to the lower level. I went to the locker closest to mine and the door handles fine. I then walked over to another area where there's a larger locker space. Whereas my locker is on its own and can be accessed via one door. This was a much larger communal walk-in room with caged lockers on both sides of a central pathway. They can be accessed via two locked doors. If we were to look at it from a bird's eye view, it would look like the letter C where you can walk into one door, walk straight two meters, turn right and walk about six meters,

then make another right and walk two more meters to exit via the other door. When I got to one of the locked doors, I noticed the handle was bent just like mine. But when I grabbed the handle, I quickly noticed that the door was actually open. I went through it and walked in, turned right, and in front of me about four meters away was a man lie on his back with his eyes closed perpendicular to me. His posture was very straight and uniform.

He wasn't curled up or anything. He looked like a body you'd see lying down in a morgue face up. I abruptly stopped, shocked at what I was seeing, and without even thinking, said, hello? No response, no movement at all. I wasn't able to digest what I was seeing, so I slowly backed away, turning the corner and opening the door, right come from.

As soon as I left and was walking away, a stubborn thought took hold of me. What if that guy was hurt or even dead? I didn't see any blood, but was it possible the man I saw in the video trying to break into my locker, came across this guy, I just saw on the floor and knocked him out, and if he was hurt every second counted, and I felt irresponsible to leave him there. I turned around, opened the door again, turned the corner, saw the guy in the same position, unmoved, and I said, in a louder voice, are you okay? Nothing. I moved a little closer. Hello? Can you hear me? Nothing. I moved a little closer and then noticed something.

He was gripping a wretch. Dread flooded through me as I realized I had made a colossal mistake coming back into this locker. I moved back faster than before, turned the corner, opened the door, and bolted back up to the main floor and told the concierge we needed to call the police immediately. The poor concierge thought before we called the police she should look around herself. I insisted it was too dangerous and the next logical step was calling the police. She thankfully did and we waited. I still wasn't completely sure what was happening. The wrench in that hand was pointing to the fact that this guy was the same guy in the video. A wrench would be an excellent candidate for what had happened to my locker door handle.

But it still seemed absurd to me that someone who had tried to break into my locker more than an hour ago was still hanging out. And not only hanging out lying on the ground, is it not the case that people who steal things leave the premises as soon as possible? I waited with the concierge, both of us friendically pacing around, and when the police came, we explained that there was someone in the big locker downstairs. I know I should have gone back to my apartment and they didn't need to be involved anymore but I was so filled with adrenaline that I followed the police down. I watched them go into the locker and after hearing some shouts less than a minute later they came out with a guy handcuffed, conscious

and looking bewildered. At this stage, a bit of a crowd formed, and someone asked me what had happened. I explained as well as I could, and when I started talking about the second time, I came back into the big locker. This guy responded non-shelently. Oh, he was playing possum with you. He was waiting to see how close you could.

And if you got too close, you would have attacked. When I was in the room with a guy on the floor, it was obvious that something was wrong and I was in a dangerous situation, but it was only after the fact. When it was mentioned to me, he was playing possum, that it all came crashing down, how close I was to getting attacked and seriously injured or worse. This was a big wake up call, but I needed to reflect on my intuition when danger was clearly right in front of me. I gave my report to the police and went back up to my apartment mulling over what it happened.

It's not something I ever want to repeat, and I can only say how lucky I am that I came out of that one unscathed. Hello, my name is Shelby Scott. I'm the host of Scare You to Sleep. Thank you for having me back again, Andrew. This happened when I was 22 years old. Me and my friends had a habit of hanging out at parking lots or random places since none of us had our own place. On this specific night, we were going to meet up at one of our friends storage units. Everyone was already there except for my friend Tom,

who was working a closing shift at Whole Foods. I decided to go to Whole Foods and grab some snacks and a couple of drinks with our mutual friend, we'll call her Jessica. And then just wait outside in the eating area for Tom to get off work so we could just carpool to the storage unit. Jessica decided that she was too tired to hang out and went home instead. A couple of minutes after she left, a middle-aged man and woman approached me. The man starts talking to me and asked me, was that your sister you were just with?

I respond. No, that was just my good friend. To which he says, oh, I was curious because I was watching you guys and you have the same style and kind of look alike. At this point, I should have ran inside and stayed there until he left, but in those times, I didn't listen to nearly as many true crime podcasts as I do now. I tell him we probably are similar because we were such close friends and then continue to look at my phone. He does not leave. I also need to add that the entire time he's talking to me, the woman he is with does not speak once, which again should have rang some alarms for me to run for the hills. He starts asking me questions like, what is your name?

Where do you go to school? Where do you live? What are your plans for tonight? To which I respond and allow to all of them. I lied about my name. I told him I went to school down the road, which wasn't true, but I lived 30 minutes away, and that tonight my friends and I were going bowling. Careful not to give away any locations. He gives me a name that sounds fake, but for the sake of hiding his identity, we'll say he tells me his name is John Smith, close enough to the fake

alias he gave me. And introduces the woman he's with as his wife. He asked me what I'm doing all alone and I tell him I'm waiting for my friend who is about to be off the clock. He responds, do you need a ride? We can take you. I say, no, I have my own car. I'm actually here picking him up. Here's where it starts to get even creepier. He asked me, so how would you feel if we kidnapped you and took you dancing so we could all shake our booties?

I tell him, I'm super busy and wouldn't have the time, but he keeps them persisting and eventually asks me for my number. I tell him I would rather take theirs down and I would give them a collar text whenever I wasn't busy. I was prepared to immediately erase their number and obviously never talk to them again. They get in their car, which is a beat-up pickup truck built to the top with plastic bags. Still not a word from his wife. They drive away and I think I'm safe, but still on edge over what just happened. So I start to text my friend that I am going to my car and to text me when he is outside and I'll pick him up. Before I can walk down

to the street, I see the truck pull around again and John rolls down his window and goes, hey, we never got your text. Why don't you text just right now, so we have your number. At this point I panic, because the doors to the whole food are locked, and my car is too far to run towards. I respond with, I'm sorry, I got distracted looking for my friends, I'll send it now. He does not drive away until he receives a text from me. This time, as soon as they drive away, I run to my car, lock the doors,

and leave the parking lot to a parking lot across the street. I block his number, and then tell my friend what happened when I see him, and he replies with, oh yeah, I saw that guy checking out girls inside Whole Foods. A few months later, I was deleting my voicemails, and I noticed I have a voicemail from a number but I didn't receive a phone call. I play the voicemail and it's him.

It's John. In the voicemail, he asked me when I would like to meet up with him and his wife to go dancing. I delete the voicemail and never hear from him again. To the creepy middle-aged Mansson vibes man outside of Whole Foods, let's not meet again. Johnny Saddle Banks Slippery Pete This town ain't big enough for the both of us. Ain't but one thing to do.

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That's managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. Hi, I'm Em Shultz, and that's why we drink, and I am reading Forced Uber by MJ. I only decided to write my story, because in a previous story, titled Stranger in My Car, one of the authors felt guilty about being taken advantage of, and I wanted to share my story to help alleviate the feeling of guilt because I also was taken advantage of in a similar way. It was 2017 and I was driving my 2002 Toyota Corolla that was falling apart. It was summer and my air conditioning didn't work in my car so I had all four windows

down. On my commute to work I had to drive through a high crime area part of my midwestern town, which didn't bother me until this particular day. I was driving home from work when an ambulance was coming up behind me, so I pulled to the right to let it pass, and as I was distracted by the ambulance, the two fire trucks, and some cops driving by, a woman had walked up to my car and unlocked my door without me noticing. As I wanted to rejoin traffic, my passenger door opened and I finally noticed this woman slipping into my car. I asked her what she thought she was doing and she gave me a sob story

about her sister being taken by the ambulance and could I drive her to the hospital. I said no, that I had to quickly pick up my son from daycare before I got charged for being late, which by the way was a lie because I don't have any kids. She told me just to drive towards the hospital and she could catch her ride when she got closer. I said that I wasn't going near the hospital and this was as close to the hospital we would be going since I'm on my way to pick up my fictional son. The woman did not like that answer apparently because she pulled out what I believe to be a bowie knife

and pointed it at me and said, drive north. I have the worst timing for being a smart ass because I replied, okay Christopher Columbus, do you want me to go toward KFC or the high school? And as soon as I said that I thought I was going to die, but no, instead she smiled at me and I have never been more terrified of a smile before. She directed me towards the high school and we kept driving with her giving me left her rights and finally she said, hold in here and jester towards a bar parking lot.

The full parking lot gave me some sort of hope that someone would do something if I screamed, but that hope flew out the window as soon as she waved to a group of men and they came closer to my car. At this point I started crying begging her to please let me go and she asked for my money and over the $1.50 I didn't spend on the Twix earlier at the vending machine. She asked for my credit cards, and as I handed my one credit card over, I told her I was close to being maxed out, but I had $26 available for gas. That also was not true. My card had a full amount available, and she could have drawn up a large tab on me, but apparently when I'm in trouble, I lie. not true, my card had a full amount available and she could have drawn up a large tab on me, but apparently when I'm in trouble, I lie.

She then really looked at me and said with a chuckle, you need to start saving your money, as if we were friends and she was joking with me about spending too much money at the store rather than her kidnapping and robbing me. She then put the knife away in her purse, dropped the dollar 50 and my credit card in my cup holder, and turned fully to face me. She then put the knife away in her purse, dropped the $1.50 in my credit card and my cup holder, and turned fully to face me. She smiled and asked, can I get your phone number? I stared at her in stunned disbelief. My phone number? What the fuck? Wanting this weird encounter to end, I rattled off my parents' old home phone number. It was their shut-off landline and the first phone number I memorized as a child. She wrote it down on a

piece of paper she found in my car and she got out. She told the mentally me alone quote because she needs it more than we do. I peeled out of the parking lot and drove straight home. I told my husband and the next morning we both called off work and went out and bought me a new car. One, that had functioning air conditioning. I still can't drive with the windows down and I think about this encounter almost every day. Why me?

Why did she want my phone number? Was she going to be kind all of a sudden after trying to rob me? Was it truly my quick lies that saved my life that day? I felt guilty for a while for being so ignorant about my safety, but my husband reminds me all the time that I shouldn't feel ashamed for someone else's actions. I was the victim, it wasn't my fault, and it wouldn't be my fault even if my doors were unlocked. Someone took advantage of me, and that's on them, not me. In any case, to the woman who traumatized me

for the rest of my life, let's never meet again. When you download the Croger app, you have easy access to savings every day. Shop weekly sales and get personalized coupons to get the most value out of every trip every time, whether you shop in-store or online. Download the Croger app now to save big. Croger, fresh for everyone, must have a digital account to redeem offers. Restrictions may apply, see site for details.

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tested, and loved by you. Because when you get the products you love at great prices, it feels like winning. Shop now, in store, or online. Croger, fresh for everyone. Hi everybody, my name is Christine Shefer and I am the co-host of the podcast and that's why we drink, paranormal and true crime show and I'm also the co-host of the comedy podcast Beach Two Sandy Water To Wet. You might know I'm a huge fan of Let's Not Meet and I am honored that Andrew reach out and ask me to read another story. So without further ado, let's crack into it. This happened five years ago when I was 15. I had a job working as a busser for a high class restaurant that winner. I've had a number of bad experiences with creepy guys, but this one was especially frightening.

Seeing as I was 15, I couldn't legally drive on my own yet, but my mom worked early mornings as well, so she would usually just take me with her and drop me off at the bus station around 5.15 a.m. It was too far of a walk from where we lived, but it was near her work, so it was convenient for her to drop me off and have me take a bus the rest of the way to my job, even though my shift didn't start until seven and the bus didn't run until six. Because of this, I would normally wait until I was at the bus station to do my hair and makeup since no one else was over there that early and I would arrive to a freshly

clean bathroom with big mirrors. This not only allowed me to get a little extra sleep in my warm cozy bed before getting up, showering and heading out into the dark cold winter mornings to begin my day. But it also passed a 45 minutes that I'd have to wait at the station from the time I arrived to when the buses would start running. Prior to this day, my mom had just assumed I'd been doing my hair and makeup at the restaurant. So when I mentioned something to her about going in to do it that morning, it made her uncomfortable.

She told me she didn't like the idea of her young teenage daughter alone in the basement bathroom of an empty bus station in the dark early hours of the morning. I distinctly remember her saying, you just never know who could be in there. Okay, a bit creepy, but I thought, come on, there's no way someone would bother hiding in a bathroom at 5am on a Saturday. It's not like we live in the big city, and besides, I do this all the time. After I reassured myself that I would be fine and refusing to let her comment cause me to spend the next 45 minutes feeling paranoid, I said goodbye to my mom and went inside to do what I did every day. I walked inside and listened to the low familiar hum of the heater as it was the only sound. I put in my earbuds as I made my way down the stairs and entered the restroom,

which opens up to a short haul, the wall of which borders the sink and mirror area, which is just beside the stalls. I was also singing along to the music playing on my iPod, and as I came down the hall and around the wall, I habitually had my sights set straight on the mirror and countertop and went to set my things there and began laying them out.

As I did so, my intuition told me to look at the stalls. So casually I did. Nothing stood out to me at first. Just the dusty rose colored stalls closed and quiet, but as my eyes made their way down toward the floor I froze and held back a gasp, my singing cut short. There on the floor of the handicap stall, a large burly man with a white beard was laying still on his side. I noticed that he was wearing big, dirty steel-toed boots, and he had to vent all since his feet stretched to the stall door. My eyes fixated on those boots, laying still, unflinching. He appeared to be sleeping despite the fact that I had barged in singing at such an early hour,

and I could hear him breathing steadily and loudly, having ripped out my earbuds. Just as I took a small step to grab my bag and try to sneak quietly out, I saw the left boot twitch, and slowly, silently, lift off the floor. This was all I needed to kick it into high gear, grab my shit and get the hell out of there. I remember y kick it into high gear, grab my shit, and get the hell out of there. I remember yanking open the heavy door at the end of the hall, and simultaneously hearing the stall squeaking on its hinges behind me. The sound of those boots approaching. I high-tailed it out the door and toward the exit. I was flustered and making a run for it up the stairs, the man now emerging from the bathroom. What happened next you ask?

I fucking fell down the stairs. I swear it happened in slow motion, my rubber boot catching the lip of the step and creaning backwards. No, no, no, no, no, my brain was screaming. This isn't happening, I told myself. This can't be happening. Oh, but it was. I scrambled to get myself up and away from the man, and I flung away from his grasp

before he'd even fully gotten back on my feet yet. I can still see his rough, dirty, greasy-looking hands trying to grab me. My arm, my hair, my sweater, my purse. Just as I had managed to spring away from him, I felt the resistance of my purse strap in his grasp, tethering me to him. He wasn't about to let go.

It was just full of makeup and hair stuff, nothing really valuable, and even if there would have been, I didn't care. He gave it a sharp tug and attempted to pull me back, and somehow I maneuvered out of my purse altogether, hoping it would send him flying down the stairs like a movie scene. But of course, it didn't. It made him smile. A gross crooked smile with long yellow teeth spread across his face. He looked like a dirty, rabid sewer rat ready to bite into a right piece of cheese. He was pausing, enjoying this.

Knowing he was closing in on me as I reached the stair platform 15 feet above the solid tile and cement floors, it was like my helplessness and fear was satiating him and he was savoring it before closing in and doing whatever he intended to do with me. I wasn't about to wait around and see what that was and I grabbed the railing using the little momentum it gave me to skip up the stairs and finally I burst through the doors of the station and into the street. The cold, fresh air hitting my lungs after feeling suffocated by the walls of the bus station. However, the street was still very dark and empty, and this was no time for pause as the

man was still coming after me, yelling. He kept going back and forth between rage and flirtatiously offering to give my purse back. He would shout, come on honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Say, don't you want your purse back. And then go on to say things like, hey girl, stop. I just want to give you your purse. Why are you being such a little bitch, huh?

I'll get you little girl, I'll get you. Yeah. Needless to say, I didn't stop running for a second. I made it across the street and the alleyway, which served as my opening back in a civilization and kept running right up to the door of my favorite coffee shop. They weren't actually open yet,

but thank God a breeze to there had seen me running straight toward her, man in pursuit, and hurried to let me inside before shutting the door in his face and locking back up in a matter of seconds. The man yelled at her to let a man exclaiming that he had my purse, and he needed to give it back, waving it around. Yeah, no thanks. He pounded on the door before

running off, since we had gone around the counter to call the police and her manager, who was very kind and made me my favorite hazelnut cappuccino for free. But I can't say anything else really came of the incident after that. The bus station had a security camera installed outside the basement bathrooms though, so that's something I suppose. I have no idea if they ever found the man, but he can keep the purse. I just hope I and any other girl for that matter never meet him again. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks.

I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire? Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber. The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward. Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one.

Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas. Visit AT&T.com slash hypergate for details. No hay más de 12 meses. ¡Ladó como un guilhán con 80 y 50! Llamé en el Abilidad y Enceleradre, visite att.com slash Hypergate for Details. ¡Vispa, family! de vestidos, trajes, colores y estampados, de marcas como Liz Claverne, Wardin Tone, Stafford y J. Ferrar. Ay, no olvidemos de robots para los chiquitos. Descubre lo último en la tienda o en JCP.com.

Estilo de pieza cabeza para donde sea que vayas. JCPenny. It's not meat, a true horror podcast is weak you have heard. The Woman on White's Bridge by Sturx, the people by Jasmine, the rich by a listener that asked to remain anonymous. My mom jinxed me by Parker, forced Uber by MJ, and finally, Whole Foods Man by Stella Marie. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message

boards online. If you have a story to share, please send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. I want to thank all of my guests for joining me on the live stream and I hope that the audio sounded okay this week. Thanks to Sora Narnia, Sapphire, Sondalo, Shelby, Scott, Christine, Sheifer, and M-Schultz. It was a great pleasure for having you all on the show again. I had a lot of fun. We'll be back next weekend for the season 6 premiere.

Nothing changes. We don't go anywhere, and ever miss a weekend if I have anything to do with it. Music will be new, and everything's gonna be exactly the same, just the way you like it. And don't forget to sign up for the Patreon over at patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcasts if you'd like to support the show

and gain access to all of the bonus material. So you all next week for the season 6 premiere of Let's Not Meet, a true crime comedy podcast hosted by three childhood friends who chug wine, chapter crime, and unleash our worst Minnesota accents. Sure do. Each week we pick a true crime topic and pair it with a delicious wine before delving into the background and psychology behind the crime. Then we share and speculate wildly about a couple of bonkers cases related to that topic.

Oh yeah, and past episodes include Necrophilia, cults, crimes of passion, cruise ship, disappearances, and exorcisms gone wrong all over a bottle of wine. Or three, let's be honest. Yes, truth. Listen anywhere you get your podcasts, you can also follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram at Wine and CrimePod and check out our website and blog at Wine and CrimePodcast.com. Cheers! Me too. Ugh, this wine. I'll fetch you a better one. Straight forward is better. No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months. Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber.

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