Our "Near Death" Experience: How Not to Die in Scotland.

Updated: Dec 27, 2019



You weren't born to just pay bills and die.

How NOT to die in Scotland?


*Let us tell you about our stop in a Scotland pub when we knew the deep freezer was to chill our dead bodies. #dumbtourist


We blame jet lag for our lack of judgement due to the brain fog and the "yucky" stomach.


After landing in Inverness, Scotland, we drove to our first stop near the Glenlivet Distillery. This bed and breakfast was amazing! From the beautiful room to the personalized water bottles. Wow! It is the small touches that make the stay memorable.


Traveler Confession: the toilet in the bed and breakfast did not flush and when you haven’t pooped in 2 days… I think you get the picture. Since we broke the toilet and didn’t tell the homeowners (crappy of us - pun intended); we left in a bit of a hurry to make the drive to Pitlochry.


For miles you see rolling hills, heather, thistles and sheep. It is a maze of single-track roads totaling 120 Scottish miles. A Scottish mile is an anomaly. What you think should take 2 hours driving takes twice the time. Plan accordingly.

The Cairngorms, Scotland

During this drive as we are taking in all the landscape, we had to make a couple of poop stops: one in the grass on the side of the road (Thank God for the wet wipes) and another at a pub out in the middle of nowhere.


AND NOW OUR STORY BEGINS


Two American friends are driving trying to find a place to take a big nasty diarrhea poop. Darn you jet lag! When the sweating begins and you know you will either yark or shite yourself. You chose the shite.



DoTerra would have come in handy but pulling over the car quickly was of "upmost importance"!


At this point, the landscape has become secondary to the need to find a real toilet. The lack of trees, homes, businesses… cue in the Clint Eastwood “The Good The Bad and The Ugly” spaghetti western (whistling) theme music where the good meets the bad… there was nothing in sight.


Then the heavens open and God has answered our prayers. We rounded a corner and lo and behold there was this pub or restaurant to our right.


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Hallelujah! We have found a real bathroom.


Have you ever walked into a place and the hair on the back of your neck raises? #iseedeadpeople


While Natalie takes care of business - Connie (me) - checks out the bar. The bar was incredible. I don’t know if I have ever seen so many bottles of scotch. The bar was old, polished, a step back in time AND EMPTY. (How did this not signal a red flag?)


After finishing her business, Natalie makes her way to the bar.


The barmaid was an interesting woman. As we made small talk, she invited us behind the bar to see her artwork. Now, why would we walk behind the bar and go through a scary door to see her artwork? #naivetourists

[scene is set…tourists are locked in the back room of the bar]


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Our fight or flight was triggered.


We are now in this storage room behind the bar. There is a dimly lit hallway in front of us (perfect place for a murdering accomplice to hide). To our left was the painting used for bait. To our right were 2 long deep freezers (large enough to hold human bodies). We knew this is where we will die.


Nashville's local newspaper, The Tennessean, headline read:

“American Female Tourists Found in Local Scottish Pub's Freezer.” #paranoid


Natalie and I are now ready to take on the Scottish version of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. We knew we could take the barmaid, but what if the murdering accomplice jumps out from behind the hallway?


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[thoughts inside Connie’s head]

“I can push the barmaid down and shove Natalie out of the way. Is it selfish to save my own arse? I’m a horrible friend.”


[thoughts inside Natalie’s head]

“She will be easy to tackle; I can take her. Don’t scream because no one will hear you. I will fight my way out of this.”

After exchanging many niceties and complimenting the painting, we shoved our way out of the storage room. We couldn’t get out of there fast enough.


Round the bar, don’t fall down, get out as fast as possible. Try to be polite.


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Scottish “murderer” asks, “Will you sign the guestbook?”


One look between and we read each other's minds, “Are you serious?”


Rational brain says “get out!”


Southern polite, don’t be a rude tourist brain says, “sign the guestbook.”


Rational brain takes over, “use fake names so they can’t find you on Facebook.”


Lured in by social media.


Walk to the car. Don’t run and try to walk normal. This is a lot harder than you think. It is that stiff leg - shuffle - walk - but not quite a trot. Imagine the “I have to poop and I’m squeezing my buttcheeks” walk.


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Funny. That’s the very reason we stopped at this restaurant.


Note to self, pack the anti-diarrhea medicine for our next trip. Because you never know.


Shuffling through the restaurant, we don’t forget our Southern polite charm, smile and say hello to the little old biddies having tea. Should we warn them of our near death experience?


We hold our breath as we, walk in slow motion, one foot in front of the other, towards the door.


I about knock Natalie out of the way, because remember I am saving my own arse.


We make enough noise as we open the door and squeeze our two bodies through at the same time.


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Bye y’all crazy people! We can’t seem to make it to the car fast enough.


Finally. We are safe in the car and everything that just happened is being unloaded. There was laughing. Hand Gestures. Several “Oh My Gods!” Lots of “What The Flips!” How did we survive? Did that really just happen to us?


[Back to reality]


The artwork was beautiful; we wish we had taken a picture to share.


The barmaid was not a murderer as of 2016. We did make it out alive. Check the newspaper and social media for any weird stories.


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If you need to yark or shite, bring extra wet wipes. Rewatch Scream and memorize all the rules to survive a horror movie. Stick to the road.


We tell this story in good humor and do want to add a serious note.


We can never be too safe. Learn to trust your gut.


There was not any harm done during this adventure and we know to not be as naive as our 2016 selves. We had made the mistake of not telling our husbands of our whereabouts or had cell service. Not that we were any major danger, but we were in the perfect setting for a Stephen King horror movie.


What do we say to death? “Not today.” #GOT


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