While ocean kayaking in the Indian, off the coast of Durban, I was washed up onto a mussel-covered reef, and was then beaten against those rocks by the waves several dozen times until I was able to swim away -- my hands, feet and legs were lacerated to ribbons. I had mussels for dinner that night. Because I don't like seafood getting the better of me.
In high school, I was both student body president and the managing editor of the newspaper. The student council was treated with deference by the paper that year.
If the Bolsheviks invaded while I was in Chicago, I would know where to hide.
I once ran down, then back up, three flights of stairs in the NYC public library to deliver a ukulele to Warren Buffett.