Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - One Wild Paris Night, a Pole-Dancing Mix-Up, and a French Stranger Who Saved the Vibe #48

Episode Date: August 4, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #ParisNightlife #unexpectedhero #nightoutdrama #poleDancing #frenchstranger  During a wild night out in Paris, a pole-dancing accident threatens to ruin the party vibe. Amidst confusion and tension, a mysterious French stranger steps forward to calm the chaos and restore the fun. This story captures the unpredictability of nightlife, unexpected kindness, and the magic of strangers who turn moments around.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, ParisNightlife, unexpectedhero, wildnight, partychaos, strangerrescue, nightlifeadventure, dramaunfolds, nightstory, urbanlegend, chaoticnight, socialdrama, unexpectedkindness, mysterystranger, citystories

There's so much rugby on Sports Exter from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65?

Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hse.com. But in your PPS number, check in the date of birth. And then they tell you when your next appointment is due.

Oh my God. I know. I know. And you can check you on the register on the website so you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book today or hscccccc. i.e. 4 slash servicle check. So here's what went down during our wild little Paris adventure.

My two younger sisters, 119 and the other 23, and I, a proud 25-year-old dude, decided to hit up the city of lights for a much-needed vacation. You know, all the usual tourist stuff, Eiffel Tower selfies, way too many croissons, lov-induced foot cramps, that kind of thing. But one night, we wanted to level up the experience, ditched the site. sightseeing and dive into the local party scene. That's how we ended up at this insane rooftop bar that looked like it belonged in a music video. It had everything, neon lights, a view of the city that could make a grown man cry, and a DJ who clearly lived through the late 2010s and was proud of it. Think Duolipa, early post Malone, and all the beats that used to blast

from your Bluetooth speaker in college. The vibe was immaculate, the drinks were dangerously smooth, and the dance floor. Pure chaos in the best way. Naturally, after a few drinks, and by a few, I mean we were all a couple cocktails past sober, we started dancing like nobody was watching. Spoiler alert, people were definitely watching, but thankfully they were just as drunk and just as offbeat as we were. There was this raised platform in the middle of the dance floor, shaped like a big box, with a pole in the center. It was like the bar's unofficial stage, and anyone could hop up and unleash their inner party gremlin. We watched a few people go up and do their thing,

some impressive, some hilarious, all very intoxicated. After cheering on a group of guys doing what I can only describe as interpretive pole dancing, my sisters looked at me with that familiar mischievous sparkle in their eyes. We're doing it, said my 23-year-old sister. The younger one handed me her phone like it was a sacred artifact. record us, she commanded, with the kind of confidence only a 19-year-old with two margaritas in her can manage. And so, I became the designated videographer. I might have had a few drinks too, but that didn't stop me from channeling my inner Spielberg. I was committed.

I mean full-on cinematic angles, slow-paned shots, moving around to get the perfect lighting. If there had been an Oscar for drunk guy with iPhone, I would have been a shoe-in. Meanwhile, my sisters were absolutely living their best lives up there, dancing like no tomorrow, totally in sync, just pure joy in motion. But of course, it wouldn't be a night out without a little drama. Out of nowhere, this random woman comes storming up to me from the crowd. She looked angry, like she thought she was about to save the world. She started yelling in rapid fire French and pushing my arm down, trying to get me to stop recording. I had no idea what she was saying, my high school French got me as far as ordering crapes, not defusing international misunderstandings.

It took me a second to realize what she thought was happening. From her point of view, I was just some random dude filming two girls dancing on a pole in a club. Yeah. Not a great look. I tried to explain over the thumping bass that they were my sisters and they asked me to film them. But either she didn't hear me or didn't believe me, probably both. She looked ready to throw hands or call the bouncer. Panic mode, fully activated. Thank God my sisters noticed the commotion.

They jumped off the platform, ran over, and basically tackled me in a hug. They took the phone from my hands, laughing, and told the woman that everything was cool. You could see the gears turning in her head. She finally backed off, still giving me the stink eye, but at least she wasn't trying to take me down anymore. Crisis averted. Later that night, we couldn't stop laughing about it. I mean, imagine thinking you're just viving with your siblings and accidentally getting mistaken for a club creeper. It was peak vacation chaos.

But honestly, after the embarrassment wore off, I felt kind of grateful. That random French woman didn't know who I had. was. She just saw what looked like a shady situation and stepped in. And yeah, it was awkward. I won't lie, I had that adrenaline hangover where your whole body just hums with leftover anxiety. But think about it, if it hadn't been me, if it had been some actual creep filming strangers, she might have stopped something gross from happening. That kind of courage. Mad respect. Most people wouldn't do anything. They just sighed up. and move on. Not her. She acted. That takes guts. So wherever you are, random French hero from

the rooftop bar, thanks. Even if I wanted to melt into the floor in the moment, I see what you did. There's so much rugby on Sports Exter from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jam back with rugby.

Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. And I'm honestly in awe. You proved that some people really do look out for others, even in the middle of a drunken dance party.

The night kept going, of course. We kept dancing, kept laughing, and I kept my phone in my pocket just in case anyone else got the wrong idea. We made more friends, a couple from Sweden who thought we were professional dancers, were not, a solo backpacker from Brazil who taught us how to samba in the middle of a Cardi B song, and a girl from Australia who kept shouting, YOLO, every five minutes like it was 2013 again. It was one of those nights that doesn't make sense when you try to explain it later. Too many tiny moments, weird conversations, and sudden bursts of laughter. But it was real.

It was one of those core memory kind of nights, the ones that live rent-free in your brain and come back to you randomly when you're waiting in line or staring out a window. The next morning, we all woke up with raging headaches and that blurry feeling like your brain is rebooting. But we also had the video, oh, the glorious video. My sisters looked like they were in a music video, and I gotta admit, I did a solid job with the filming. We watched it at least ten times while nursing our hangovers with espresso and overpriced pano chocolate. We also talked about that girl again, the one who stopped me. My youngest sister said, honestly, I'd want someone like her around if I were out by myself. And she's right.

We all need those people who aren't afraid to cause a scene if it means protecting someone else. I hope more people start acting like her, even if it means making things awkward or getting it wrong sometimes. Better safe than sorry. So yeah, that was our Paris pole dancing saga. What started as a fun night turned into a weird misunderstanding, and then into a life lesson about random acts of bravery. And honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. Okay, maybe I'd learn how to say, they're my sisters, it's cool, in French. But other than that, perfect chaos. Now every time we talk about that trip, we always end up on that story.

It's become our go-to-lath, the icebreaker we tell new friends. It's our weird little family legend. And deep down, it reminds us how lucky we are to have each other, and to have had that one incredible night in Paris, complete with dancing, drama, and one unforgettable French stranger who just wanted to do the right thing. Life's funny like that. Sometimes the best stories come from the most unexpected, awkward moments. And sometimes, those moments teach you more than any tour guide ever could. The end.