(I am working on a film set as a stunt fighter and as the fight choreographer. As a rule, I will be either a fighter OR the choreographer because you can’t safely oversee a fight scene if you’re in the middle of it, but I had a chance to have a nice gory death — axe to the face — early on day three and couldn’t resist. We shoot my death and I spend the next ten hours managing the battle scene and, by the time we wrap, I am exhausted and don’t bother going back to make up to get my prosthetics off and, since I am wearing my own armour, I hop in my car and head off. Then, I get randomly stopped by the police. A young officer swaggers over to my car, leans into the window, and says:)

Officer: “Holy f***! Are you okay? I can have an ambulance here right away! Oh, my God, what happened?!”

(That was when I remembered that I was still wearing the makeup from being murdered in the face with an axe. As I was exhausted from three sixteen-hour days of filming, instead of explaining to the officer that it was makeup from a film set, I just dug my hand into the wound and pulled off a huge chunk of makeup, which is when the officer barfed on my car. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to see someone with a massive facial wound dig their whole hand into the wound and tear off what appeared to be half their face.)

(I recently applied for a local position at a huge, multibillion-dollar corporation. I receive an email from their HR department.)

HR Department: “We reviewed your resume and think you would be a good fit for this position. I need to verify that you are under forty years old and also do not have a disability. Also, attached is a legal agreement that you can never sue us for any employment problems in the future, including discrimination, or join a class action, that you will never join a union, and that you will never have a disability or otherwise ever require any form of reasonable accommodation to perform the work.”

Me: “I can verify I am under forty years old; however, you should be aware that both of those things are illegal to request or condition employment on in this state.”

HR Department: “We reviewed your resume and do not feel you would be a good fit for this position. Good luck in finding employment elsewhere.”

(I’m the person in the story “Best… Seizure… Ever”. A few years before that, I accumulate a bit of “bachelors’ disposable income” and decide to treat myself to a new used car. Due to personal interests, I set my sights on a Japanese import sportscar. I find a dealership in the Netherlands that imports this sort of car. I make a trip there to check out their stock, choose one of their cars, and leave a down payment. They take care of the import paperwork and registration, I convince my roommate at the time to drive me there two weeks later to pick up the car. We drive past the border and notice two police cars that are marked “Customs”.)

Roommate: “Do you think they will pull us over on the way back?”

Me: “I’ll have all the import paperwork including the customs payment, so even if they do, we’ll be good.”

(We get to the dealership and I pay the remaining price, sort out the paperwork, and put temporary plates on the car; it takes us maybe 30 minutes. We drive back over the border and, lo and behold, five kilometers behind the border, I see blue lights in my rearview and the customs officers pull us over. After the pleasantries are exchanged:)

Customs Officer #1: “Do you know why we pulled you over?”

Me: “Because you have to make sure I paid customs on an imported car?”

CO #1: “What? No. Get out of the car and open the boot!”

(I do as I’m told, and I notice the officer in the second car is doing the same to my roommate in his car.)

CO #1: “Stand over to the side and don’t do anything stupid!”

Me: “Look, we just bought a car; I have all the paperwork right here.”

CO #1: “Yeah, right, you bought a ‘car’! Stand over there and shut up!”

(By this point, I’m pissed off by his rudeness but can’t do anything about it. I shoot my roommate a look to the tune of “WTF, dude?,” and [CO #1] starts searching the empty boot, just like [CO #2] is doing on my roommate’s car. After five minutes of not finding anything:)

CO #1: “Open the hood!”

(I get in the car and pop the hood release, and then open the hood up. The sound of the release makes [CO #2] look up and make his first focused observation of my car. His face immediately lights up and he comes over to my car.)

CO #2: “Is that a [Japanese import]?”

Me: “Yes, we bought it literally an hour ago.”

CO #1: *grumbles to himself while searching the engine bay*

CO #2: “Oh, that’s cool! [CO #1], be careful with that Turbo; don’t burn yourself!”

CO #1: “The what now? I’m sure they have it somewhere!”

CO #2: “[CO #1], can I talk to you for a second?”

(They walk back to one of their cars. I can see both of them gesturing, with [CO #1]’s face getting redder as they speak. After a while, [CO #2] comes back to us.)

CO #2: “You’re good to go. He thought you guys were smuggling weed because you fit our description of a wanted gang. Can I see that import paperwork for a second?”

(I show him.) 

CO #2: “Yeah, it is all legit.”

(He keeps asking me a few questions about the specs of the car, and it becomes clear he is an enthusiast. As we part ways:)

CO #2: “Please don’t crash it on the way home. Drive safe!”

Me: “Thanks a lot! I won’t!”

(He leaves.)

Roommate: “Wait, if we are a drug trafficking gang, where is my share?”

My mum is the area manager of a chain of betting shops. She travels around them all making sure nothing shady is going on and everything is running smoothly. One day, we receive a panicked call from her.

“Yeah, this is going to sound nuts but can you come to get me? Someone is in the shop with a gun threatening to steal.”

At hearing this, we all freak out. For reference: guns have been illegal in Scotland for many years unless you have a specialised license. So, we make the 20-minute drive there only to find a police car and someone in an oversized onesie being escorted out screaming that he has no idea why he is being taken in.

Confused, we walk in to find out what happened. We find my mum and two other employees struggling to contain their laughter. After a few minutes, we manage to get it out. Someone came in wearing a balaclava and all black, and carrying a loaded gun. When the panic button was pressed, he ran… only to turn up a measly ten minutes later after changing clothes and ask to make a bet. By that point, the police arrived and he was escorted out immediately.

In the early 1990s, I was part of a Star Trek reenactment of the Khitomer Peace Treaty between Humans and Klingons.

The guy playing Chancellor Gorkon, a Klingon, essential for the play, never turned up. “Surely, it is his new girlfriend. No respect for the fleet,” somebody accused. “He drank too much blood-wine,” somebody else suggested.

He never turned up… until the next day.

What had happened was the following. On the subway, two police officers asked him who he was; he said he was a Klingon. They thought this was a gang. They asked him what he intended to do with his big knife, and he replied that it was no big knife; it was a Bat’leth. And what are you going to do with this thingy? “Kill puny humans.”

The police put him in the overnight arrest for planned manslaughter.

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