Scary travel tales from other backpackers

I was already settled in my seat on the plane bound for Chicago when the guy next to me ambled on board. He didn't make conversation. He didn't smile. He had no coat, no hand luggage, no socks, not even a book. Just him and some loose fitting clothes. Within fifteen minutes of take off he was acting jittery, shifting about in his seat, nervously glancing up and down the plane at other passengers, and asking if there was a spare seat further up, nearer the cockpit. Two words resounded in my head: "International Terrorist." And I was sitting next to him. My next seven hours and forty-five minutes were spent, at least visibly, reading a book, writing in my journal and listening to some music. Internally, however, my insides were somersaulting. There was a bomb on board. I was going to die, and my remains would be found drifting in the Atlantic somewhere near Iceland. *gulp* We landed in Chicago and he raced away, probably eager to scare someone else out of their wits for a few hours. I merely padded through US Customs and visited the nearest Starbucks to try and calm my nerves. Livi Ruffle

Melbourne was slightly cold at the end of April 2003, and with nothing better to do, we made the decision to go and see XMen2 which went on release that day. Everything was fine, and we were happily ensconced inside the cinema. Until I started finding it hard to breathe. I went outside to try and catch my breath where I was greeted by some of the most inept cinema attendants ever employed who called over their manager. I was quizzed by the manager who quickly established I was English and I'd just come over from Singapore. At which point he moved a good three feet away from me and told me he'd be calling me an ambulance. As the crew arrived (by this point I was back to my regularly breathing self) I was immediately given an attractive dust mask to wear and got strapped into a bed. How exciting! On arrival at the hospital they shoved me straight into a 'respiratory isolation' room which I wasn't allowed to leave. And people who came in had to dress themselves up for the occasion - full gowns, masks, goggles, head covers, boots and gloves - I know this because I could watch them getting ready before I was about to be poked again. After several hours of having my temperature taken, my heart rhythm checked and my breathing listened to every so often, and also after a chest x-ray and an ECG... some doctors and nurses (actually recognisable as humans without their full radiation suits) arrived and explained to me that I'd been held there as they suspected I would be Victoria's first case of SARS. But to all our relief - I wasn't. Just a random attack of non-breathingness, XMen is obviously faaaar too exciting for me. Jess Elvidge

One summers night back in 2001(about 3am), I was walking back to my cabin in the forest about half a mile from the main camp, and I was walking along the banks of the lake and I saw a shape silhouetted in the water from the moonlight. It was the shape and size of a rugby ball, and curiosity got the better of me so I crept towards the waters edge for a better look. It began to move, and I hadn't a clue what it was. I found a pebble and threw it towards the shape - no effect. I found a bigger rock (about the size of a head) and lobbed it at the shape, not caring what it was. Well, the 'shape' turned out to be the head of a bloody snake! When my rock hit the water, the snake jumped clean out the water to attack it. OMG! It was about 10 foot in length, I kid you not. It was a giant Water Moccasin - one of America's deadliest snakes so I had been warned. This was a monster, and I was feet away from it. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, there was a rustling in the bushes about 2 feet away from me on the bank and something plopped into the water - yes, it was another one! I had stumbled upon a nest, just my luck! It was Mummy and Daddy and they must have been patrolling! I was bricking it at this stage, so battered my legs up the track to safety as quick as I possibly could! Kris Robertson

I was experiencing the joys of an overnight bus ride through Sumatra, Indonesia. They should rename the road the ‘World’s Most Uncomfortable Highway’. It’s incredibly windy and there seem to be potholes every two minutes so you bounce up from your seat. It was after midnight and I’d been trying to sleep: the blaring Indonesian pop music and the driver beeping the horn at someone every 5 minutes didn’t help. I’d just about dozed off when, yep, you guessed it; we stopped at a roadside café for a midnight snack. I stumbled blearily off the bus. My stomach passed on the option of eating fiery curry at this hour, so I just got a juice and sat down at a table with my book. I’d been up early, and tiredness was beginning to win. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. I awoke on being prodded anxiously by several locals...I ran outside but no, no sign of my bus. It was now 2 a.m. They had been too polite to wake me. I was panicked. I was a woman, alone, at 2 a.m. and I didn’t know where I was. I decided I’d better find a hotel and worry about the situation in the morning. I sought a becak (rickshaw) driver, assisted by locals who had no problem waking the poor guy up from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes. ‘Where to, Miss?’ ‘A hotel’, I said. I dug in my bag for my guidebook. Where was I? No one seemed to understand my increasingly frantic enquiries. The driver, however, knew a good hotel. In Indonesia touts are alive and well, even at 2 in the morning. I agreed to have a look. I negotiated a price. The horrible hour was no barrier to bargaining, either, and I wasn’t in a great position to barter so the cost was astronomical. We were about to set off when I heard yelling. I heard a vehicle. Yes, the bus driver had eventually realized I was missing and returned. I’ve never been so glad to see a bus. Cara Grayling

One tale while I was in Armenia: Somebody comes up while I was sitting in a park. He asks me if I noticed that large box full of cash lying around. I said no. He then shows me the money inside the box and asks me if I would like to share the money. I say I don’t mind. Then he asks me to go with him to a nearby bush where nobody was around. And finally that person ends up taking all my cash, watch, and clothes. This was actually a very common incident in that area and new foreigners were the usual victims. Indu Shakyu

My friend Mark and I were just fastening our crash helmets and laughing at our ridiculous apparel when we realised the gravity of our situation. We were about to go white-water rafting, in Chile, while being filmed for national television, and the group leader was giving vital safety instructions in Spanish. Our Espanol was not bueno, to say the least, so from then on we knew it was going to be a case of nodding, smiling and flailing our paddles aimlessly until someone took them off us. The following three hours of freezing saturation did ultimately bring with it hilarious doom, but not for us. The producer of the TV show was flung from his raft and rapidly (no pun intended) sailed with arms waving over the rock-strewn horizon. He was washed about a mile down the river, before eventually being rescued. Steve Bartram

Click here >> if you've got any traveller's tales and post them on the messageboard. We're always on the look-out for travel tale gems - it's great to read about others' experiences.