I could describe it this way:
I was sitting in a safe place waiting for a friend.
Someone came up behind me, wrapped something around my neck, and tried to choke me.
I struggled for air.
They poured something on me.
The fumes were noxious.
I was pulled backwards.
My head was pushed under water.
When I survived that, they came at me again.
This time, with sharp blades aimed at my skull.
I said I could describe it that way.
Actually, it was just a visit to my hairdresser.
But when we were sharing stories of daring-do at our St. Patrick's Day dinner party recently, the way she described things made me realize anything could sound dangerous.
Listen to her take on hot-air balloon rides: "Oh, yah. I want to sit in a little basket high in the sky while someone aims a flame at the giant ball of gas above me."
Yep.
Note to self: Do not discuss sky-diving plans at the salon.