13x19: Man at the Window

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If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not MeetStories at gmail.com.

Enjoy the show.

This is a story that spans multiple years as I had several weird encounters with the same creep who we'll call goggles.

I met goggles in high school because we rode the same school bus.

When we met, I was a freshman who was new to the area, and he was a sophomore.

After a month, he started sitting in the seat behind my usual spot on the bus, and he would get off the bus at the same stop as me.

The first time it happened, I thought that it was weird, as I had noted he generally got off three stops before me.

I figured maybe he had a friend in the area or something, so I quickly brushed it off.

But this happened several more times, which gave me an eerie feeling that he might be following me.

I even wondered if that was why he started sitting behind me on the bus.

Maybe he figured I wouldn't notice that his bus stop changed, since he was always deboarding behind me.

In any case, I just kept telling myself that he must have a friend who lives near my stop.

For the most part, I'd walk walk home immediately after we got off the bus, but sometimes I'd turn to see where he went.

I would never see him though.

It was like he disappeared.

Then, goggles started showing an interest in me in the hallways at school.

Somehow, even though we never had any classes together, he learned my name.

Once he knew my name, he made a point of greeting me by my name in the hallways, and he always waved.

I never stopped to chat with him when he would do this, as I always found these interactions to be rather odd.

He consistently greeted me the same exact way every time he saw me.

I generally waved back to be polite during these encounters, but after a few weeks it seemed more and more weird.

I asked my brother about him, as they were in the same grade, and he told me his real name, but he said he went by the nickname Goggles, since he wore these glasses with thick coke bottle lenses.

He also confirmed that goggles had a strange fascination with me.

I figured it was just a crush, but I wasn't attracted to him at all.

I honestly didn't want anything to do with him, but I continued to maintain my politeness and wave back at him.

Then something creepy happened.

One day he just unexpectedly showed up at my house during the weekend.

He rang the doorbell, and my mom did not hesitate to let him in when he asked for me.

She yelled out to me letting me know that I had a friend stop by, and when I saw him at the bottom of the staircase, next to the entryway of my house, I had an internal freak out.

But I managed to calmly and politely greet him and ask him what he was doing there.

He said that he wanted to hang out, and proceeded to ask my mom if I could go with him to hang out at his house.

I was still absolutely baffled by how he was actually inside my house.

I didn't have time to think of an excuse as to why I couldn't go, though.

My mom, on the other hand, was extremely excited to see that I had a friend, since we were new in the area.

She quickly gave us permission to hang out, and I ended up leaving with him.

I figured, if anything, this could be my chance to clear the air with him and see just what his deal was.

When we started walking, I asked him how he knew where I lived.

He said that he saw me going home one day after we got off the bus.

He said, I always seemed nice, so he wanted to get to know me.

I explained that I was new in the area and let him know what I thought of the school before asking him what he planned for us to do at his house.

He said he didn't have a plan, but he made sure to tell me his parents weren't home.

I felt awkward as we approached his house, but I went inside.

The place was barren.

It was almost like nobody even lived there.

There wasn't a couch.

There was no TV.

So I asked him for a second time what he wanted to do, but all he would vaguely say was hang out.

I told him I was feeling unsure about the whole thing and said that I didn't understand why he wanted to hang out at his house if there wasn't a plan.

I told him I didn't want to hang out that day and I better go home.

I then let myself out in a hurry and I ran home.

I never said anything to my mom about that day since I didn't really know what his true intentions were.

As the months went by, I made sure not to make eye contact with him on the bus.

I did, however, make sure that he was getting off the bus at his stop to ensure that he wasn't following me.

This eventually led to him tracking me down and waving at me in the hallways, but the school year ended without anything else happening.

When the next school year started, my sophomore year, he started finding me in the hallways to say hi and wave to me again.

Sometimes I would wave back, but sometimes I pretended not to notice him.

I started feeling very annoyed, since he was tracking me down multiple times a day, so I went out of my way to find new routes to take to my classes just to be a little less predictable so that he wouldn't be able to find me.

Thankfully, my brother got his driver's license shortly after the school year began, so we didn't have to take the bus anymore.

When my junior year rolled around, Goggles was still waving and saying hi each and every time he saw me.

I was fed up by this point and I started straight up ignoring him.

I stopped waving back and saying hi.

I was hoping that he'd get the hint and quit.

But one day he approached me while I was in the computer lab.

I was sitting down at my assigned computer.

He came over to me just just to say that he found my MySpace.

He confessed that he was looking at my pictures all night long.

My face reddened immediately, and I didn't know what to say.

Then he told me that we should hang out again since he had so much fun the last time.

I avoided him like the plague for the remainder of the year.

He graduated that year, and this put me at ease, a little bit.

At the start of the senior year, I moved about 20 minutes away and started working at a local movie theater.

This was where Goggles found me next.

He came in with his mom while I was working at the concession stand, and I had to wait on them.

They started making weekly trips to the theater and always got in my line for concessions.

We never made small talk, so I didn't understand why they always had to get in my line.

After a while, he started to come to the movies alone and tried to talk to me at the concession stand on slow nights.

Since he was coming in at least twice a week, I told my coworkers that I may have a stalker on my hands.

One of my coworkers piped up and told me they overheard another co-worker of ours giving goggles very detailed information about my work schedule.

I was really upset when I heard that, so I stopped being friends with that co-worker.

But then she gave him my cell phone number.

Shortly after I found out my number was given out, I started to get calls every night from the same number.

The caller would call, but never leave any messages or anything for the most part.

However, one really creepy message was left once.

It was some heavy breathing.

I asked my dad to help me block the number since this was before phones had the option to do so manually.

So we went to the cell phone provider who said that it wasn't possible to block just number.

My options were either to block all numbers or get a new phone number.

My dad decided he didn't want to have to change my number.

After I graduated, my interactions with Goggles decreased as I continued hiding from him at work.

The random calls became less frequent.

But I went to Wendy's with a friend one day, and we got behind the first customer in line.

This customer was Goggles.

I

table right next to ours.

I ate as fast as I could in silence since I was so uncomfortable.

He kept asking about where I was living as he noticed I no longer lived at my house, but I didn't tell him shit, and I told him he didn't need to know.

The next time I saw him was at a local grocery store.

He was retrieving carts from the parking lot.

I didn't have any idea he worked there, but when I saw him I quickly ran inside in hopes that he wouldn't see me.

But he saw me.

In fact, he stopped retrieving carts and followed me from the parking lot, into the store.

He followed me closely and creepily referred to me as Miss, as if we were total strangers, and then asked me if he could help me find anything in a few of the aisles as he followed me.

When I was ready to check out, he opened up his own cashier lane, and another worker ushered me over to him.

When I was face to face with him, I told him he didn't need to follow me around the store or open up a lane for me.

He said that he wanted to talk to me and I told him he needed to leave me alone, finally.

I'm now attending community college, but guess who else is there?

Goggles, of course.

I quickly noticed that he was following me on my routes to class, and he was waiting outside of my art class just so he could keep following me around.

One day, I was waiting to get coffee from the vending machine, and he ran up to me and greeted me as if we were long lost friends.

He gave me a long, tight hug as I stood there, mortified, with my arms flat at my sides, not hugging back.

When he let go, I snapped.

Don't ever touch me again.

I finally filed a police report on him, but that was the last time I saw him.

I've since moved multiple times.

I'll never know why he followed me for so long, but that's okay since I really don't want to know.

Goggles, I hope you never touch me again.

And let's not meet.

Lily is a proud partner of the iHeartRadio Music Festival for Lily's duets for type 2 diabetes campaign that celebrates patient stories of support.

Share your story at mountjaro.com/slash duets.

Mountjaro terzepatide is an injectable prescription medicine that is used along with diet and exercise to improve blood sugar, glucose, in adults with type 2 diabetes mellitus.

Mountjaro is not for use in children.

Don't take Mountjaro if you're allergic to it, or if you or someone in your family had medullary thyroid cancer or multiple endocrine neoplasia syndrome type 2, stop and call your doctor right away if you have an allergic reaction, a lump or swelling in your neck, severe stomach pain, or vision changes.

Serious side effects may include inflamed pancreas and gallbladder problems.

Taking Manjaro with a sulfinyl norrhea or insulin may cause low blood sugar.

Tell your doctor if you're nursing pregnant plan to be or taking birth control pills and before scheduled procedures with anesthesia.

Side effects include nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting, which can cause dehydration and may cause kidney problems.

Once weekly Manjaro is available by prescription only in 2.55 7.5 10 12.5 and 15 milligram per 0.5 milliliter injection.

Call 1-800-LILLIRX-800-545-5979 or visit Mountjaro.lilly.com for the Mount Jaro indication and safety summary with warnings.

Talk to your doctor for more information about Mount Jaro.

Mountjaro and its delivery device base are registered trademarks.

owned or licensed by Eli Lilly and Company, its subsidiaries or affiliates.

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I had only been living in New Orleans for about two weeks when this occurred.

I had never been to New Orleans once in my life prior to moving there, but this decision to do so resulted from my desperation to get a job right out of college.

I'm from a similarly large metro area in the southern United States, so I'm familiar with the dynamic of cities like this.

On one block, you'll see kids playing catch in the streets and young couples walking arm in arm down tropically adorned sidewalks.

On the next, you'll see dilapidated houses.

These dilapidated houses that I see in New Orleans are those that still have not been made whole since Katrina and have faced further damages by Ida.

It's also not unusual to see gang violence, young boys posted up on street corners in unimaginable poverty, all tied to rampant drug abuse.

In the end, it's just all about knowing where to go and which areas to avoid.

Anyway, I was driving home from running some obscure errand at night at around 9.30, and this caused me to drive through St.

Claude.

For those of you that don't know, I can say with certainty that this is one of those neighborhoods that you should always avoid if possible.

As I came upon a stop sign right next to a small community center, I suddenly slammed on my brakes due to driver's instinct.

It was like I hit the brakes before I really even understood why I needed to.

I then saw, standing just feet away from my front bumper, a tiny cat, its wide eyes staring back at me in terror as it had become briefly blinded by my headlights.

I didn't quite realize where I was or how dangerous of an area I was in since, as I mentioned, I had only been in New Orleans for about two weeks.

Without thinking for a moment, I stepped out of my car to assess the situation and see if I could help the little guy.

I didn't even remove my keys from the ignition.

I figured I would be back quick.

I also didn't think of grabbing my phone from the charger.

I figured that I'd be able to beckon over the little cat and help it or watch it dart away before slipping back into my car and continuing on my way.

When I got out of the car, I barely opened the door to get out, so I accidentally closed it when I clumsily bumped it, walking around.

So, no big deal, I thought to myself, as I convinced myself that the door would be unlocked.

But then, my whole heart sunk like a stone into my stomach when I tried to open the door, and it didn't budge.

Now, I didn't panic, as I tried the remaining three doors, doors, cursing myself, and then I spotted a man sitting on the steps of the community center eating, and he spotted me.

Noticing my situation, he slowly stood and approached the back of my car with a bag of food.

He plopped it down and proceeded to enjoy his dinner on the trunk of my Subaru.

I had already been stuck there for a good ten minutes, so honestly, the company of another person was actually relieving.

Plus, it felt like I didn't look as helpless to passerbys with him there.

After I explained the situation, he said that he could try and rig the door open.

I was desperate to get back in, so I agreed.

Unfortunately, it was useless, and I could tell that he was just fiddling around.

So I scurried over to a small church across the intersection where I spotted a few people locking up for the night.

I figured that nice churchgoers would have to help a woman who was lost and alone, right?

Wrong.

The man locking up looked straight through me and then back at the man who was still clearly attempting to bust into the locked car.

He shook his head and shot me a glance that seemed to say, Do you think I'm stupid?

It was at this point that I felt the tears welling up, but quickly told myself to suck it up as I dejectedly walked back over to my car.

When I got back to my car, by the grace of God, the random stranger let me use his phone to call a locksmith, tastefully called Pop a Lock,

who told me that they would arrive anywhere from 45 minutes to four hours.

After about 25 minutes of chit-chatting, the man who had been trying to help informed me that his shift was about to start, and just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

This was when the gravity of my situation really began to sink in, and I became acutely aware of my surroundings.

Acutely aware of the men who had been circling the block on their bikes while I was talking to the other guy.

I heard the distant squeak of the wheels circling the block again, and before I could even duck to cover, they lapped the block once more.

As they continued down the block, I realized that I quickly needed to find somewhere else to be by the time they returned.

So I swiftly walked towards the community center where I planned on sitting on the stairs, but decided it was entirely too illuminated.

I'd be making myself a beacon amid the darkness of the neighborhood, if that's where I chose to go.

Getting desperate, I jogged back over to the church and, hearing the wheels nearing again, I squatted down behind the big sign in front of the building.

As I sat there in the dirt, I finally couldn't help it anymore and I cried a bit.

A combination of fear and frustration put me over the edge.

After a while, I didn't hear any more movement, so I decided to move spots.

I had seen what appeared to be a restaurant earlier, so I walked over there and while it looked like it was closed, I found the door to be unlocked.

I darted inside and latched the lock on the door as I closed it behind me, sighing with relief.

I then situated myself at a table where I could peer out at my car to see when the locksmith arrived.

After what felt like days, but was probably more like two hours, the horrifying realization dawned on me.

I had only made one call to the locksmith, and I was only able to give a vague description of the intersection where I was.

What if they couldn't find me?

What if they had already driven past and were long gone after not seeing me there?

I didn't know if I should keep waiting or venture back out to my car.

About thirty minutes later, I decided I would just go back out there.

Plus, the men circling the block I was on, like sharks, seemed to be gone.

Of course, the moment I left the safety of my little restaurant hideaway, I started to hear those damn bike wheels rounding the corner.

So, I felt exposed.

But there was no time to go back across the intersection or back to the restaurant.

As I was sprinting toward my car, a black truck rolled by and, to my horror, stopped just moments after passing me.

Even worse, the driver put the truck in reverse and began to roll slowly back in my direction.

I pretended to walk away as if I were utterly aimless, trying to give off the impression that I wasn't locked out of my still running car without any of my resources, and I could hear the men on the bikes getting so much closer.

Then, just like an episode of CSI, the fucking pop-alock van rounded the corner.

I instantly began waving my arms to flag them down.

Right when my Savior parked his van, the truck that was in process of reversing towards me drove away.

Turns out, the locksmith had been looping around the area for the past 20 minutes looking for me.

He was about to give up, so if I had stayed in the restaurant, I would have been left without any means of communication to call someone for help.

The moment I finally got back into my beloved Subaru, I began sobbing at the click of the locks behind me.

I felt pure relief to be secured within a locked space.

So to the men circling me on their dinky little bikes, I hope that we never technically meet, and let's keep it that way.

Lily is a proud partner of the iHeartRadio Music Festival for Lily's duets for type 2 diabetes campaign that celebrates patient stories of support.

Share your story at mountjaro.com/slash duets.

Mountjaro terzepatide is an injectable prescription medicine that is used along with diet and exercise to improve blood sugar, glucose in adults with type 2 diabetes mellitus.

Mount Jaro is not for use in children.

Don't take Maljaro if you're allergic to it or if you or someone in your family had medullary thyroid cancer or multiple endocrine neoplasia syndrome type 2.

Stop and call your doctor right away if you have an allergic reaction, a lump or swelling in your neck, severe stomach pain or vision changes.

Serious side effects may include inflamed pancreas and gallbladder problems.

Taking Maljaro with a sulfinyl norrhea or insulin may cause low blood sugar.

Tell your doctor if you're nursing, pregnant, plan to be or taking birth control pills and before scheduled procedures with anesthesia.

Side effects include nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting, which can cause dehydration and may cause kidney problems.

Once weekly Mount Jaro is available by prescription only in 2.55 7.5 10 12.5 and 15 milligram per 0.5 milliliter injection.

Call 1-800-LILLIERX 800-545-5979 or visit mountjaro.lilly.com for the Mount Jaro indication and safety summary with warnings.

Talk to your doctor for more information about Mountjaro.

Mountjaro and its delivery device base are registered trademarks owned or licensed by Eli Lilly and Company, its subsidiaries or affiliates.

Top Reasons Technology Pros Want to Move to Ohio, a thriving tech industry with high-paying jobs for programmers, developers, database architects, and more.

Ohio is the silicon heartland with the top tech brands and thousands of startups too.

Shorter commute times mean more time for you.

And since your dollar goes further in Ohio, it's like a cheat code for success.

The tech career you want and a life you'll love.

Have it all in the heart of it all.

Learn more at callohiohome.com.

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I'm a 16-year-old male and earlier this summer, I got my driver's license for a 50cc moped.

This is a common and popular thing here in Europe.

I was so excited to finally ride with my friends and explore places that I could not have explored before without my moped.

Everything went great for the first couple of days until one day, when my friends and I were just cruising around and having fun, it was a warm and sunny summer evening, so we decided to go ride on some smaller gravel roads in the countryside.

We rode around for maybe an hour until everyone said they needed to head home.

It was probably around 1 or 2 a.m.

by that point, but I decided that I still wanted to hang back and stay for a ride around by myself while listening to some music in my headphones.

So after my friends left to go home, I started riding towards this small village surrounded by fields.

There were a lot of farms out there, so I rode a bit slower than usual to ensure there wouldn't be any accidents with a tractor or other farm vehicles.

After I got through that village and closer to a bigger road, I decided it had been a nice ride, and I should start heading back home.

The 100 kilometer per hour highway was nearly empty and 50cc mopeds aren't permitted to ride on the highways, but I did it anyway because home was only 30 kilometers away.

I was just riding at full speed so that I could attempt to get home before my parents found out that I had been out until 3 a.m.

When I had finally been riding for 15 minutes, I saw a car stopped on the side of the road with its lights on.

Seeing this creeped me out a bit, to be honest, but I just just shrugged it off and kept going since I was about halfway home.

A few minutes later, I noticed the car that I spotted on the side of the road speeding up after me.

Since my moped only goes 80 to 90, the car caught up with me pretty quickly.

Once it caught up, the car then started to pass me.

When it was beside me, I looked and saw that the driver was a man who was covered in blood.

His eyes were locked on me.

He was smiling.

I was so scared as he drove alongside me for probably a minute, even though it felt like hours.

After briefly keeping pace with me, he raised his hand and waved goodbye before he sped off and exited the highway onto a smaller road.

When he sped ahead of me, I noticed that his car didn't even have a license plate.

It was very creepy, and I'll never know why the man was covered in blood or why he had been parked on the side of the highway at 3 a.m.

But what I know for sure is that he is somebody I never want to meet again.

I've flown with my one-year-old solo nearly a dozen times.

Usually people are understanding and kind about the fact that I have a baby on my lap, and overall, he's a happy, easy going baby.

He's also very cute, so it's not uncommon for strangers to talk to him, which I typically don't mind.

During my last trip, I was alone in my aisle, with a man sitting by himself directly behind me.

The baby was tired and fussy.

I knew that he was tired, but there wasn't a lot I could do to calm him down until after we took off.

Right out of the gate, the man behind me started talking to my baby.

He said, Oh, hi, baby.

Why so sad, baby?

Cute, cute baby.

I smiled and explained that he was tired as I apologized about the fuss and thanked him for understanding.

After takeoff, I started to get him settled in for a nap.

But the man behind us continued to talk to my baby.

He then put his hand through the seats and tried to grab his feet.

I politely asked him to stop multiple times since my baby was tired.

I told him what he was doing was distracting, and the baby needed to nap.

I then set my baby down next to me.

While I was preparing a bottle for the baby, which was sat next to me, the man behind me stood up and reached over my seat to pick him up.

I immediately leaned forward to pick up my baby and sternly said, No, thank you, I don't need help.

Please, no, thank you.

The man pushed me back into my seat and mumbled, sweet baby, why baby cry?

I loudly shouted, No,

and quickly picked up my baby.

I thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong.

I tried to rock my baby back to sleep while desperately trying not to lose my cool.

As I was rocking my baby, the man behind me reached through the seats again to grab my arm.

He said,

No rocking, you'll make him cry.

I pulled my arm free and yelled, Do not touch me.

I then started rocking my baby for a second time.

This time the man behind me reached both hands around either side of my seat to hold me in place and and said, No, no rocking, stop rocking

I'm somewhat embarrassed that I completely lost it after that, but I tried to be nice to him, and I couldn't help it.

I clutched my baby to my chest while struggling to free myself of his grip.

I then hit the call light while screaming, Let me go do not touch me, let me go

He was still holding my arms when the flight attendants came running to my help.

Everyone surrounding us was staring.

I could barely get anything out as I tried to tell the flight attendant what was going on.

I was sobbing and all I could get out was that I could not sit in that seat any longer and asked to be moved.

The man behind me tried to ask to be moved with me.

I told the flight attendants that I didn't know him and he could not come with me.

Then, I was moved to be next to the flight attendant's seat.

I had a good cry in my new seat and thankfully my baby immediately went back to sleep.

After I calmed down, I told the flight attendants exactly what happened.

As I told them everything, the man who had been behind me got up multiple times to try and come back to where I was sitting, only to be turned around and taken back to his seat by one of the flight attendants.

Towards the end of the flight, one of the flight attendants told me that they had explained everything to the pilot, and the pilot had called the FBI and local police to escort the man off of the flight.

I would also be escorted off, as well as everyone around us who had been watching everything happening.

Strangely, he cheered as he was escorted off.

I had to be interviewed by the FBI, and it ran a little long, so I nearly missed my next flight.

After my trip was done, I had to fly back by going through the same airport.

It was stressful and emotional, to say the least, since I wasn't wasn't sure if he was banned from the airline or the airport.

I haven't flown since.

To the man who tried to grab my baby from me and then wouldn't let go of me?

Let's never meet again.

I'd like to preface my story with the the fact that my dad, a prominent surgeon in Northern California in his time, had a business partner who was another surgeon, who was in fact one of the victims of the Golden State killer.

This had happened before I was born, so growing up, I never really knew of the story nor understood why my dad was such a paranoid helicopter parent.

I found out about everything years later.

My dad had several experiences that led led him to believe that he, like his business partner, was being stalked by Joseph James D'Angelo Jr.

Now, in retrospect, I believe this situation was my close call with him.

Anyway, when I was five years old, my mom and I were home alone in a house we had just moved into.

My dad was away on a business trip.

I was in the kitchen watching Harry and the Hendersons, and my mom was upstairs.

Our kitchen was very big, and the TV was in a nook in the corner.

There was a couch right next to the TV against the wall, but it faced out into the room, and it wasn't facing the TV, so I was actually sitting on the ground with my back up against the side of the couch about two feet away from the TV, staring up at it.

There was this massive window right next to the TV, but since I was on the ground, I assumed anyone looking inside wouldn't have seen me.

On the opposite side of the room from the couch, there was a door leading to the garage.

It had one of those long, flat handles.

As I was sitting there, I began to hear a creaking sound, and I looked over to see the handle moving up and down.

I still get chills remembering being alone in that dark room, illuminated only by the flickering of the TV and seeing that door handle move up and down, seemingly on its own.

I count my lucky stars every day that that door was locked.

As soon as the handle stopped jiggling, I leaped up from the floor and I sprinted up the stairs, screaming to my mom that someone was trying to get into the house.

She was upstairs and had the windows open, and we both heard the crunching of feet running down the driveway.

She immediately called the police and they came out and did a search of our property but found nothing.

They chalked the event up to being just a random prowler.

The scary part is that there were two doors to the garage, one on the kitchen side and the other on the opposite side of the stairs.

We later found the second door being unlocked.

It was by pure chance that only the first door was tried.

I guess the fact that the first door was locked scared the person off enough, so they never tried the other one.

I truly believe if whoever was there hadn't heard me scream and run up the stairs at that moment, they would have tried another door to make it inside, and they would have been able to.

After my dad told me everything, I understood why my family moved six times before I turned five.

While I cannot confirm this was the golden state killer, it seems likely due to the fact that he stalked my dad and his former business partner.

My dad had a few odd experiences over the years with break ins, and in every instance, nothing was taken, but there was forceful entry into the home.

It truly is a distinct possibility that it was him.

Joseph D'Angelo, Junior, was a former police officer and mechanic who committed at least thirteen murders, fifty one sexual assaults, and one hundred and twenty burglaries all over California from 1974 to 1986.

He wasn't caught until 2018.

I'm an older woman, and things were different back when I was young.

Back then, it was perfectly fine to snag a ride from guys in a van by hitchhiking.

Guys who drove these vans were more or less hippies, but sometimes there were creeps, as it was also a time when serial killers roamed free.

I grew up on a farm in South Carolina.

There were no paved roads, and we didn't receive a lot of communication from the outside world.

My best friend and I decided to walk to the only store in town for some candy.

This was highly unusual because we never had any money.

As we were walking, there was a car that came driving driving by very slowly.

We didn't think much about it since the roads in our town weren't the best.

At the time, we weren't the worldliest kids, so no one ever told us about stranger danger.

We knew everyone, so we talked to anyone who said hi.

Well, this car passed, and then we saw it turn around.

We still didn't think much about it, but it came up to us and stopped.

I might not not have known what kind of danger you can encounter from a stranger, but I had this sudden, horribly nauseous feeling when I looked at the car.

It was like when you see an animal predator and don't know what to do.

All I knew for sure was that my feelings were saying, run.

I don't believe my friend got that feeling because she walked right up to the car.

The man was greasy and dirty, but we were were used to seeing people like that working out and about.

He asked us if we wanted a ride.

She said sure,

but I said we needed to walk.

My friend looked so mad, like I had ruined her day, so she begrudgingly said that she was going to walk with me.

I could see his hand moved like he was going to open the door, which gave me a feeling of dread.

Everything started going in slow motion, so I grabbed my friend's arm and pulled her back.

Just then another car was coming from the opposite direction, so the guy drove off.

My friend was so mad at me for hurting her arm, which I suppose was fair, as I left a couple of bruises.

A few years later she came over and looked like she was going to pass out.

She had a newspaper in her hand and was stunned to the point of not being able to say anything,

So I grabbed the paper and we looked at it.

And there was that same man who'd tried to get us into his car.

His name was Pee Wee Gaskins.

He was a vile, disgusting human.

I was literally taught to obey every adult, but if I had, we would not be here today.

Please don't be afraid to hurt someone's feelings.

Make sure to arm yourself.

It doesn't matter if it's a firearm, taser, pepper spray, or a knife.

People are not always nice.

You need to be aware and follow your gut.

Now, this is Andy speaking, not on behalf of the author.

I don't normally interject here, but in this case, I think it's important to understand the seriousness and the gravity of the situation the author was in.

I want to give you a bit of a profile on Donald Peewee Gaskins.

Convicted of over 15 murders, Pee Wee Gaskins was one of South Carolina's most prolific and disturbed serial killers.

He said that he killed between 80 to 110 people, but there wasn't much evidence to corroborate this, and it's widely disputed.

However, in addition to murder, Gaskins had a lengthy criminal history that included burglary and assault.

Gaskins claimed to have developed this habitual killing method, as he called it, where he tortured his victims over extended periods, showing this fascination with inflicting prolonged pain before eventually killing them.

A very sick and disturbed human being.

He was one of those serial killers that exhibited a very disturbing propensity for violence.

And by the age of 11, he was already committing assaults and engaging in theft, eventually escalating to far more violent crimes.

When he was on death row, he actually collaborated with a journalist, and he wrote this book titled The Final Truth.

It was his autobiography, as he says.

The book delves really deep into his warped psyche, and he recounts a lot of brutal crimes he committed.

Though a lot of people do question the accuracy, as Gaskins was known to exaggerate, but it's a really graphic read, so I can't recommend it to everyone.

But if you're interested in learning more, you'll want to check out The Final Truth, the autobiography of Pee Wee Gaskins in his own words.

Even I had some trouble getting all the way through the book, but it's not something you're ever going to forget.

In 1991, he was put to death by Electric Chair.

So thankfully, none of us will ever be meeting Pee Wee Gaskins.

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I have important news.

If you are planning on signing up for the Patreon to get access to the extended ad-free episodes and all of the bonus content, and you're an iPhone user, you'll want to sign up on a computer or in a browser like Safari, Firefox, Chrome, etc.

Do not sign up through the Patreon app or Apple Store.

Starting November 4th, Apple is going to be charging new Patreon subscribers a 30% fee if they sign up through the iOS app.

The creators will see none of that money.

You can still use the Patreon app after you've signed up.

Just make sure to avoid the Patreon app and Apple Store when you initially sign up for the Let's Not Meet Patreon or anyone else's Patreon for that matter.

This change won't affect anyone that's already a member, so if you're already a supporter and signed up before November 4th, you won't be affected by the change.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get back to the show.

I'm a 25-year-old female, and this happened around 2019 when I was nineteen.

I was living in Nebraska, where I grew up.

I lived in the largest city in Nebraska, but it was still essentially surrounded by corn and wheat fields.

The city was expanding, so rich folks started building huge houses on giant properties on the edge of town as things proceeded to grow.

All of that being said, I had a good friend whose parents' house was on a big property right on the blurred lines between the fields and the city.

My friend and I were constantly hanging out at his place since it was fun there.

They had tons of property to ride four by fours on, a hot tub, a huge living room for us to watch sports and Ben's reality TV, etc.

Plus, his parents were super cool, and they would let us drink as long as we stayed at the house.

It was tons of fun to be over there, but I'm quite scared of the dark, so after a certain time, I'd just stay inside, as it was scantily lit, and the nearest neighborhood was about a mile away.

I felt a weird energy as I drove to and from his place, especially if it was late at night, but nothing ever happened, until one night.

I should preface by telling you about the drive there.

Their property is on this long, winding two-way road, with thick tree lines on both sides, and you'll pass one of the city's largest cemeteries on the way.

As mentioned, there's barely any lighting out there.

There are street lamps every once in a while, and very little traffic, but it's all inherently a bit creepy, and I'll admit to having sped down this road many times to get through it as quickly as possible.

This specific night had perfect spring weather, so I was driving with my windows down listening to music.

It was around 10 p.m.

I was winding around one of the curves in the road when I had to unexpectedly slam on my brakes.

Right in front of me in the middle of the road about 50 yards away was a family.

Again, just picture a completely pitch-black road with thick forests lining the sides and only my headlights cutting through to show a family in front of me.

They consisted of a tall, slim woman, an average-sized man, and a child with short hair who appeared to be around eight years old.

The mother was also pushing a stroller.

Their clothes looked normal, but not necessarily inappropriate for walking around the desolate area.

They also weren't carrying any kind of light source, meaning that before I showed up behind them in my car, they had been walking in the pitch black darkness.

They were facing away from me, walking completely silent in the the middle of the street, heading in the same direction I was.

I turned my music down and tried to hear if they were speaking or at least listening to music or something, but they weren't.

The hair on my arms immediately stood on end.

I continued rolling up the road until I came to a stop behind them and just sat there for a moment to let them move.

They seemed to be completely unfazed by me.

They didn't even turn their heads in the slightest to look at me, nor did they attempt to move out of the way.

I seriously thought I was going insane or that I was dreaming.

It was so surreal.

Before I really had time to fully process what I was seeing and how truly strange it was, they all at the same time stopped walking and slowly turned to face my car.

This scared the absolute shit out of me.

I honestly didn't give myself time to even look at their faces as they turned.

I immediately threw my car into reverse and went backwards for about twenty seconds before flipping a u-turn, nearly running myself off the road and booking it in the other direction.

The only thing I remember seeing as I flipped around was the stroller.

It was completely empty.

I never felt terror like that in my life.

I checked my rearview mirror at least a thousand times before I reached the main road.

I never saw any sign of them again that night, or any other night.

I tried asking my friend and his family about it, but they had no idea who I was talking about.

This was and still is the creepiest thing to ever happen to me.

I think about it all the time.

I'm not sure if they were lost or trying to scare someone or maybe they were a distraction for an attempted robbery or something even more sinister.

But in any case, case, I'm not interested in meeting this family ever again.

I live in Brooklyn, New York, in a street-level apartment on a semi-busy street.

There has always been an issue with privacy, as I don't have curtains, but the window has wooden blinds that are usually open during the day and partially or fully closed at night.

When it's getting dark out and the lights are on, anyone walking by can look directly in, and many people do.

Now, I'm not an exhibitionist by any means.

In fact, I'm a very private person, but my apartment is frustratingly dark and depressing.

There's never any direct sunlight coming in.

So I'll grab any daylight that I can, as it is a necessity for my mental health.

When the sun sets and I do close my blinds, it feels somewhat claustrophobic inside, so it's a bit of a challenge.

Sometimes I'll fall asleep on the couch in the living room, which is right next to the windows.

Between the apartment and the sidewalk, there's a ten-foot courtyard separating them, but it doesn't really offer any sense of distance or too much space.

On either side of the courtyard, there are two sets of cement stairs, one for my place and one for the next door neighbors.

When I'm inside my place, I can't see either set of stairs.

Many people in Brooklyn will sit outside on their steps, otherwise known as the stoop.

Being out on your stoop is a classic form of socializing in New York City, and it can be so much fun.

Anyway, people will stop and look inside my place while walking their dogs, or they'll stop with their baby carriages.

Once I even had a woman stop and pull out her cellphone to start taking pictures of me in my kitchen.

This infuriated me.

But a neighbor later told me that I had no legal recourse over that and it's okay for people to do that, apparently.

Just recently a woman let her dog enter the front courtyard area and they both eventually strolled right up to my window.

She even pressed her face to the glass in an attempt to look inside.

I went out and said, Are you here for someone?

She nonchalantly replied, Oh, no, my dog wanted to explore.

I responded, Well, this is a private home.

Almost looking insulted, she said, Oh, I guess I should be leaving now.

I curtly agreed.

Yes, you should, thank you, with a good amount of annoyance in my voice.

It baffles my mind to think that anyone would feel entitled enough to walk up to someone's home and just look through their windows.

To me, this is beyond inappropriate, not to mention illegal.

Also, it should be noted that when I walk around the neighborhood or on any of the city streets, I never look into people's windows myself, as I get triggered by people who do that to me.

Well, I fell asleep on the couch recently listening to Let's Not Meet.

The windows were open and the blinds were pulled all the way up.

The apartment was dark, aside from a small light over the stove and one in the back hallway.

There's a bright security light right outside the windows, over the gated entrance to the house, which lights up the courtyard.

The gate entrance is right next to the windows in my living room.

At around 4.45 that morning, I woke up up to the sound of a voice.

It took me a second to realize that the voice was outside and in close proximity.

I took a beat and strained my ears to listen.

It sounded like a man talking on Bluetooth in a very low, deep, and monotone voice.

When I looked out the window, I couldn't see anyone, so I assumed he was sitting on my stoop or on a neighbor's stoop.

I repositioned myself to look out at the tree guard in front of the house, and I saw a guy sitting there, on the edge of the tree guard.

To clarify, tree guards are small metal fences that surround many of the trees in front of buildings here in the city, and this guy was perched on mine.

He was dressed casually, almost shabbily, and had this unkempt beard.

Just as I focused on him, he got up, walked into our small courtyard, and right up to my window.

I jumped up and moved away from the couch just as he squatted down and looked inside.

His face was pressed against the bars, and he gently tugged on them.

I knew that there was no way that he could move or bend them, but I still held my breath watching him make the attempt.

He then turned to the gated door and muttered something as he tried to push it open.

Again, another failure.

Thank goodness.

I wasn't quite sure of what to do as I stood there, not breathing.

I was too frozen to grab my phone to take a picture of him.

I didn't think it was necessary to call the police just yet, as he wasn't being violent, and I knew that he wouldn't be able to gain access to the house.

For a moment, I thought about verbally confronting him or going out and facing him in person, but I was groggy from having just woken up and was only wearing boxers and a tank top.

I was less than prepared for any type of confrontation, if I'm going to be honest.

He then suddenly turned and left, moving out of my point of view.

So I breathed a little sigh of relief and waited.

Then again there was more mumbling, but nothing discernible or intelligible, and I couldn't see him.

I could only hear his low, unnerving voice.

Is he drunk, high, mentally unwell?

I wondered as I went back to look out the window.

In a heartbeat, he raced back around the corner and came to the window and said, almost in a whisper, you invited me in.

What did he mean?

Did he know I was in there?

Had he been watching me before I even woke up?

I stood there in horror, just waiting for him to do or say something else.

But he just turned and walked away.

After he left, I sat on the couch for about five minutes staring at the window, just in case.

He hasn't been back, and I'm dreading his return.

However, I am ready.

Thanks for listening.

And if you've signed up with our Patreon, stick around after the music for your extended ad-free ad-free version of this week's episode.

If you want to get access, make sure you sign up at patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast where you'll get access to ad-free versions of all the episodes with bonus content every week you won't hear anywhere else.

And remember, sign up on a computer or in a browser like Safari, Chrome, Firefox, or Netscape Navigator if you're running Windows 95 so that you'll save money instead of signing up through the iOS Patreon app because again, they're going to be charging subscribers a 30% fee if they sign up that way.

Subscribers that signed up with Patreon before November 4th will not be affected by this change.

This week you have heard, I wish I had filed a police report sooner by Spiffy2252.

Saved by the Locksmith by Low Taper Fade,

I'm Never Going on a Night Ride Alone Again by MILF Lover2210.

A man tried to grab my baby from me on a flight by Anonymous.

Possible encounter with the Golden State Killer by Xenix.

The Serial Killer by Majestic Bank 7542.

I came across an incredibly creepy family by Practical Sync 1484.

And finally, Man at the Window by Mark.

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, send it to Let's Not MeetStories at gmail.com.

Finally, be sure to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts like Odd Trails, my true paranormal podcast, Cryptic Encounters, my interview podcast, and the old time radio cast, all at crypticcountypodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts.

I'll see you all next week.

Everyone, stay safe.

This took place during the winter of 2013.

I was in high school and working nicely.

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