transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] Mom, can you tell me a story?

Speaker 2:
[00:01] Sure.

Speaker 1:
[00:02] Once upon a time, a mom needed a new car.

Speaker 3:
[00:04] Was she brave?

Speaker 2:
[00:05] She was tired, mostly.

Speaker 3:
[00:07] But she went to carvana.com and found a great car at a great price. No secret treasure map required.

Speaker 2:
[00:12] Did she have to find a dragon?

Speaker 3:
[00:13] Nope, she bought it 100% online, from her bed, actually.

Speaker 4:
[00:16] Was it scary?

Speaker 3:
[00:18] Honey, it was as unscary as car buying could be.

Speaker 4:
[00:20] Did the car have a sunroof?

Speaker 2:
[00:21] It did, actually.

Speaker 1:
[00:23] Okay, good story.

Speaker 3:
[00:24] Car buying you'll want to tell stories about.

Speaker 5:
[00:26] Buy your car today on Carvana.

Speaker 1:
[00:29] Delivery fees may apply.

Speaker 5:
[00:31] This episode is brought to you by State Farm. You know those friends who support your preference for podcasts over music on road trips? That's the energy State Farm brings to insurance. With over 19,000 local agents, they help you find the coverage that fits your needs. So you can spend less time worrying about insurance and more time enjoying the ride. Download the State Farm app or go online at statefarm.com. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.

Speaker 3:
[00:57] K-Pop Demon Hunters, Saja Boys Breakfast Meal and Huntrix Meal have just dropped at McDonald's. They're calling this a battle for the fans. What do you say to that, Rumi?

Speaker 2:
[01:05] It's not a battle. So glad the Saja Boys could take breakfast and give our meal the rest of the day.

Speaker 6:
[01:11] It is an honor to share.

Speaker 3:
[01:12] No, it's our honor.

Speaker 7:
[01:14] It is our larger honor.

Speaker 2:
[01:16] No, really, stop.

Speaker 3:
[01:18] You can really feel the respect in this battle. Pick a meal to pick a side.

Speaker 7:
[01:23] Ba-da-ba-ba-ba! And participate in McDonald's while supplies last.

Speaker 8:
[01:27] Hi, I'm Gustavo Cirola, and if you love D&D style adventures full of humor and heart, you should check out Tales from the Stinky Dragon. Tales from the Stinky Dragon is a cinematic listening experience complete with guest performances from professional voice actors and comedians, immersive sound design and its own musical score. Go on a thrilling journey with four friends and me, Gus, their very patient dungeon master, as we stumble through disastrous dice rolls, questionable role play decisions, and even a few wholesome feel good moments along the way. You can binge our first two campaigns or join us every other week for our latest third campaign. No matter where you decide to start listening, you're guaranteed to have a side-splitting journey that's fun for all ages and perfect for both D&D veterans and newcomers alike. Just search for Tales from the Stinking Dragon wherever you listen to podcasts and subscribe today.

Speaker 6:
[02:22] Hello folks, this is Risk, the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to share. I'm Kevin Allison, and every Thursday, we release these special episodes where we look back at content from our earlier years. This week, it's the best of adventure stories. Number three, some pretty suspenseful adventures in this one. Some rather nerve-wracking stuff. In a little bit, we're going to hear from Marshall York. But first, a story from Winter Tashlin. Here's Winter now with a story we call Miserable Day.

Speaker 4:
[03:23] This is the story of the worst day of my life. In 1996, I was a camper at a upstate New York summer camp for Jewish teenagers. I was also a flamboyant gay kid with severe Tourette syndrome. Tourette is really bizarre. At its heart, Tourette syndrome is a neurological condition that causes involuntary movements and sounds. I experience Tourette every waking moment of every day. At the moment, probably the most audible thing anyone would be aware of, is this stupid accent of mine. I was raised in Central Massachusetts and haven't actually spent any time out to the United States. But every two years for about 14 months, I sound like this. And then I'll sound like an American boy who was raised in Worcester, Massachusetts for a little while, and then I'll go back to sounding like this. Most people with Tourette can suppress some or all of their symptoms for some period of time. For me, today, I can go hours without a vocal tick, although for some reason I can't suppress this stupid accent. When I was just about 13, I had an eye blink, and I went to the ophthalmologist, and then the eye blink became paired with a quick sniff. So I blinked my eyes and real quick. Very shortly after that, I was blinking my eyes, sniffing, and jerking my head to the left all at once. And at this point, we had clearly passed beyond the realm of what could be considered an allergy. One night when I was in the shower, I made a sound. It was sort of a weird popping sound. Sort of a bop. I was doing that repeatedly while jerking my head to the left and blinking my eyes. And my mother came in and said, are you doing that on purpose? And I said, no. And then she burst into tears. The popping sound is actually quite difficult to make, and it turned relatively quickly into a bark, which sounded like the terrier I had growing up. I still bark today, although now I sound more like the Shiba Inu that I have today. And from there, barking was joined by significant physical ticks. I snapped my arm out to the right, I jerked my head violently, I ended up with, for a period of time, full body tics that were reminiscent of grandma's seizures and spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. Back then, the idea was that you were supposed to just medicate until the tics stopped. I weighed over 300 pounds because I was on a massive dose of medication that just didn't do shit. I had six months where I screamed obscenities about poultry. Fuck a chicken, and that sort of thing. The thing people most remember was I had a tic about flying penis man, where I would shout, look in the sky, it's flying penis man. Because my brain is very strange apparently. My doctor thought it was fucking hysterical. Obviously, this was a bit of a rough ride for my whole family at this point. Which on the plus side made coming out as gay totally a non-issue. Compared to having a son who's screaming about fucking poultry and barking like a dog, the fact that he'd really like to be sucking cock isn't actually that big a deal. My family decided early on that you sort of had a choice. You could laugh or cry. And we made a real effort as a family to err on the side of laughing whenever we could. When my tics were really bad, there were days when I could go a little while without barking or without yelling obscenity. I've never been very good at suppressing physical symptoms. It sucks to do. It's a lot like trying to keep from sneezing. By the time I got to summer camp, conforming and fitting in was no longer so much on the table. The reformed Jewish community had always been incredibly good to me. There are a lot of issues I have with my milk religion I could go into and I'm not going to, but acceptance sure as fuck wasn't one of them. There aren't that many environments where a 300 pound barking flaming faggot could fit in, but I did there, I managed. At this point, camp is a pretty special place. My public high school was utterly uninterested in dealing with the trait, so I went to a very small therapeutic day school about two hours from my house, well, two hours in traffic. So I mean, I'm 16 years old. This is sort of the one place in the world where I can just sort of be. Because this was a Jewish teenager's summer camp in New York, there was a trip to New York City. I really wanted to go because you would pick what you wanted to do and you would go to some New York landmark of some sort and do touristy shit, and then you'd go to a Broadway show in the evening. And one of the shows on offer was Les Mis, which I cannot state clearly enough, I was fucking obsessed with. I really wanted to see Les Mis, even though it was going to be in shitty seats and all that. I really want to go. And I didn't want to be left at camp while everyone often did something fun, because camp was really about trying not to feel like a freak. So the trip I end up choosing is to go to the Empire State Building, a group of us get in to an elevator so it was probably four or five, six campers and a counselor of some sort, who at the time seemed like a grown up to me, but in retrospect was probably like 18. I am in this enclosed space, trying not to do the thing that my brain naturally wants to do. All that I have going in my head at this point is, don't bark, don't bark, don't bark, don't bark, don't bark. And then I bark. Next thing I know, something hard hits the back of my head. And I freeze up, I'm sure I forgot what the just happened. And I look and my fellow campers just have this horrified look on their face. They're all just staring, wide-eyed, their jaws open, like, oh my God, did that just happen? And I realize they're not staring at me. They're staring at one of the tourists who's in the elevator with us. A little middle-aged man. I don't recall him that clearly. I think in my head, his face is that of everyone who's ever given me shit about the trip. He is yelling at me in French, quite irritated. I can understand why he's so upset. My bark is really loud and an elevator is small and cramped and hot and miserable. I'm taking up more than my share of the elevator as well. He's just yelling at me. I just freeze. I didn't know what to do with that. I did not grow up in a corporal punishment kind of family. Having an adult hitting me was incredibly alien and I am just filled with terror. I am now so far outside of the safe, comfortable, accepting worlds of camp, all I want to do is burst into tears. But that urge to just start crying and tell the world to fuck off, that is immediately followed by a deep feeling of shame. I know that I have a neurological condition that causes involuntary movements and sounds. And I know that's nothing to be ashamed of. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. I know that's just how my fucked up wiring is. When I feel embarrassed and upset about the turret, I always then feel ashamed about not being stronger and being more able to cope. So I just sort of sit there, red-faced, trying to simultaneously hold back the box which I cannot stop and the tears that I desperately want to stop. I get one of the two and that feels like a victory. The immediate thing after coming down the elevator that I needed to do was go use the bathroom. The bathrooms were in the basement or in a lower level. We were sort of on the lobby and I had to go down an escalator. So I'm on the escalator and I'm going down and I'm barking because I've been desperately trying not to bark all day and I'm just failing worse and worse. And of course the whole fricking lobby area is all marbles. So I'm barking and it's echoing quite a lot. I'm just trying not to look at anyone. I don't want to engage. I don't want to explain the threat. I just want to go empty my bladder. And as I'm going down a police officer or security guard of some sort is coming up the escalator. I hear, you, hey, you, why don't you shut up or I'm going to put you in a cage where you belong. This was, I think, the first time a figure of authority had threatened to imprison me for Tourette, although certainly not the last. And I think the only thing that kept that from being a bigger confrontation than it was is the fact that I was in the episode and he was on the down. So we had this very short window. So he just sort of yelled at me and shook his fist and then we sort of slid our separate ways. I was pretty shaken up by that, which the counselors and the other campers could see. In a span of an hour, I've had two really unpleasant incidents happen pretty quickly. So then we're standing in the lobby, waiting for all the other campers to gather who were in the gift shop or had taken other elevators up to the observation deck. And I'm just sort of standing nervously with some counselors and barking. When some figure of authority, rent a cop security, whatever the Empire State Building had, starts running towards us, shouting, you shut that kid up, blah, blah, blah. At this point, one of the counselors had had enough. This guy was fucking hot. I had a huge crush on him. He was in his early 20s, had just gotten out of the Israeli military. And at this moment, he became my hero. Although damn, it's a good thing this was 1996 and not 2006 because what he did was stepped out and just clotheslined the security guard. Didn't drop him, just pivoted, caught him in the chest with his forearm and just thumped him up against the wall. Got right in his face and said, the kid can't help it, we're waiting for other campers to gather and then we're leaving and you need to leave him alone. And at that moment, my masturbation fantasies for the next six months were fixed in my mind because that was the hottest thing I'd ever encounter. Like this gorgeous man standing up for me. So that sort of redeemed the moment a little bit. Also, have I mentioned that I was going to be seeing Les Mis that evening? I am sure in the back of my mind, the fact that I was going to be seeing Les Mis that evening, which had become sort of my touchstone, was already starting to seem a little like the worst plan in the history of civilization. Because I had been trying really hard not to tick this whole time, and I'd been ticking a lot. I'm on massive doses of medication and I'm already fucking exhausted. So we did something for dinner, then we get to the theater. And I'm excited and relieved because I didn't think I was going to make it through the day. And we sit down in the nosebleed section, if there can be said to be such a thing, at a Broadway theater. The moment the opening bars of the overture hit, I knew I was fucked. Because Les Mis is not a short show. I have not been making it more than 10 minutes, maybe 15 minutes without a tick. This is a show that I worship. And I don't want to fuck it up. And I'm pretty sure screaming about Flying Penis Man during Les Mis would count as fucking it up for everyone else. So I'm desperately trying not to tick. I'm all but biting through my lip. And a small bark gets out. I panic. I leave my seat as if I'm going to go to the bathroom. I go down to the lobby and I'm barking. One of the counselors comes out because they can hear me in the theater. Ask if I'm all right. Say yes. I don't want to talk about it. They go back to their seat. And I don't know what to do at all. The thing that kept me going the whole fucking day was the idea I was going to get to see Les Mis and now I wasn't. There was a pay phone in the lobby by the bathroom. I made a collect call and my mom picked up the phone and I couldn't say anything. I just started sobbing. It wasn't about the French guy and the cop and the security guard and Les Mis. It was about the realization that this is my life, that my life isn't and wasn't going to be about the world of the summer camp. It wasn't going to be about acceptance and being seen first as a person and as a guy with Tourette second. It wasn't going to be a life of people just tuning the ticks out. It was going to be this. This is what I had to look forward to. And it just, it crushed me. I had been trying to shovel that aside by focusing on the idea I was going to get to see this stupid Broadway show. And I just felt so stupid in that moment. Of course, I wasn't going to get to see the show. I had spent the whole day setting myself up to fail and on some level I knew it. My life wasn't normal and it wasn't going to be. So that's the worst day of my life. And as worst days go, it doesn't... I mean, this is RISK. People have talked about truly horrific, horrific moments in their lives. And I feel stupid and privileged saying that this was my worst, but the reason it was the worst day of my life is that it just never ended. I've been barking for more than two thirds of my life now. I mean, even as Tourette related things go, there have been incidents that seem worse. I was thrown out of a restaurant on my very first real date of my life with a guy. I've been denied access to airplanes. I've been talked to as if I was actually a dog. I don't want to say it's not as bad as that day in New York, because in my mind, it's all the same day. I've never told anyone that I still feel like that 16 year old boy is not going to see Les Mis. And in the 20 years since, I've just had to learn to be okay with that.

Speaker 2:
[20:26] Kayak gets my flight, hotel, and rental car right, so I can tune out travel advice that's just plain wrong.

Speaker 8:
[20:32] Bro, Skycoin, way better than points.

Speaker 3:
[20:36] Never fly during a Scorpio full moon. Just tell the manager you'll sue. Instant room upgrade.

Speaker 2:
[20:43] Stop taking bad travel advice. Start comparing hundreds of sites with Kayak, and get your trip right. Kayak, got that right.

Speaker 1:
[20:53] Pepsi Prebiotic Cola in Original and Cherry Vanilla. That Pepsi tastes you low, with no artificial sweeteners and three grams of prebiotic fiber. Pepsi Prebiotic Cola. Unbelievably Pepsi.

Speaker 6:
[21:17] This is RISK, and we just heard from Winter Tashlin, who I first met at the event that the story Kevin Goes to Kink Camp is about. Winter teaches and does presentations about kink, spirituality and disability, and you can find him at wintertashlin.com. Folks, my next online storytelling workshop starts on May 31st. It is an amazing way to think back on some of your most memorable experiences in life while being in a supportive, encouraging, and very educational, very informative workshop full of smart, caring people. And you can email me about it at kevinatriskshow.com to learn more. And if you'd like to help us out here at Risk! and shout down the haters, please write us a good review and give us a five-star rating on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or Podchaser. Those really do help bring more listeners. And that really helps keep the show going. Now, a story by Marshall York. This is a rather spooky one, and it's called Whisper to a Scream.

Speaker 7:
[23:00] In the summer of 95, I went on a grand solo tour of the Western United States. I drove my Mazda pickup truck from Texas to California up to Oregon, Washington and into Montana, and then I crossed over the border into Wyoming to spend the night in the Grand Teton National Park. Now, all along the way, I camped in parks by myself, and it was nice, but there were meadows and sunsets that I wanted to share with someone. Late that afternoon, I hiked four miles to a place that had a great view of the Tetons, I pitched a tent, I made a fire, I ate some ramen, and watched the moon rise, and then around 9 p.m. I went to bed. I don't know when it started, but I heard a voice. A man's voice. It was almost as if this man were lying next to me, whispering in my ear. Clearly and articulately, the voice said, Kill the camper. Kill the camper. Now, this is what I knew. I knew that I was wide awake. This was not a dream. I knew I was not under the influence of drugs or alcohol. And I knew that I was hearing a voice. A voice that stated an intention to kill me, or some other camper. Maybe it was confused, or maybe it wasn't. Kill the camper. Kill the camper. Zip. I unzip my tent and pop my head outside.

Speaker 4:
[24:35] Hello? Hello?

Speaker 7:
[24:39] The wind picked up. The leaves of the aspens shimmered in the moonlight. I lay staring at the ceiling of my tent. Kill the camper. Kill the camper. Now, this is a story that I've told many, many times, because it is, without a doubt, the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. I didn't believe in the supernatural. I'd heard the stories. We've all heard the stories. But I never thought, gee, I hope I'm haunted one day in the same way that one thinks, gee, I hope I win the lottery one day. Kill the camper. Kill the camper. Zip. I walked around with my flashlight, like you do in a horror film, and I am terrified. I am freaked out. I've never been this scared in my life because I couldn't explain why this was happening to me. Maybe if there were, say, a weirdo in the bushes trying to, in a sick, twisted way, scare me, I can say, ha ha, you scared me, weirdo, and shoo him off and then slap my hands together like you do when you say, well, that explains that. But there's no one. I go back to my tent, and I'm afraid to lie down because I know I'm going to hear, kill the camper, kill the camper. I am now so scared, I am pinned to the ground as though gravity is going to fail at any moment and I am going to fall into the sky. Then I heard footsteps outside, like a mob of people is gathering outside to murder me. Zip, no one is there. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, I am so close to hyperventilating. Kill the camper, kill the camper. I heard more footsteps, this time animal footsteps. Deer and buffalo have gathered outside my tent to trample me. Zip, no animals are there. Clearly, I was losing my mind. My obituary is going to read, Marshall York, 24, died in the Grand Tetons after being scared to death. With no recourse, I began talking to the voice. I tried to reason with it, but it's impossible to reason with any entity that says the same thing over and over. Kill the camper. So I brought myself to its level and play the game it was playing. Kill the camper. Kill the ghost. Kill the camper. Kill the ghost. Kill the camper. Kill the ghost. And then it was gone. Had I killed the ghost, scared it away? All I had to do was behave like a five-year-old? I braced myself for its return. Its absence was as terrifying as its presence. I didn't sleep for a long, long time that night. And I never camped by myself again.

Speaker 6:
[28:21] This is RISK, this is Seymour behind me now, and we just heard from Marshall York, a voiceover artist that I met when I was the artistic director of the People's Improv Theater in New York City in a different lifetime. You can find Marshall at mfyclick on Instagram. Folks, if just 10% of the folks who listen to RISK, fairly regularly, joined our Patreon, we wouldn't be so worried about making it to the next month every month. You can join at patreon.com/risk, or make a one-time donation at paypal.me slash risk show. That's it for the best of Adventure Stories number three. You can find other themed compilations of RISK stories, like the best of sex stories, funny stuff, best of drug stories, best of coming of age stories, and so much more at riskshow.com/specialseries. Folks, today's the day. Take a risk.