The Moth Radio Hour: Bold Moves
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Hey there. We here at The Moth have an exciting opportunity for high school sophomores, juniors, and seniors who love to tell stories. Join The Moth Story Lab this fall. Whether for an aspiring writer, a budding filmmaker, or simply someone who loves to spin a good yarn, this workshop is a chance to refine the craft of storytelling. From brainstorming to that final mic drop moment, we've got students covered.

Plus, they'll make new friends, build skills that shine in school and beyond, and have a blast along the way. These workshops are free and held in person in New York City or virtually anywhere in the U.S. Space is limited. Apply now through September 22nd at themoth.org slash students. That's themoth.org slash students. From PRX, this is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Suzanne Rust.

While I've done my share of daring things, and will continue to in the future, I wouldn't call myself a particularly adventurous person. No jumping out of planes, swimming with the sharks, or spelunking for me. No thanks. However, I'm all in favor of big, bold moves. Boldness is something else. It's speaking your mind, taking chances, pushing past your fears, and just generally going for it. This Hour of Stories embraces all of the above.

Our first story was told by Alita Miles at a slam in Nashville where we partnered with public radio station WPLN. Here's Alita live at the mall. Because it takes me a long time to make decisions, when I finally do it's like a really big thing, a big deal. So the first time that I decided to go camping, I was like I should go camping in the middle of the desert in Israel.

I don't know why I decided to do that. My parents were like, "I don't know what's wrong with her." But I did, and I was scared for a couple of reasons. When I first got there, it was great, it was amazing. The daytime was amazing. But at night, when you go camping, it's a different story.

So I am used to our American moon that we have outside. It's like a little tiny, like little communion wafer up in the sky. But this moon over there was a big ass moon. It was the biggest moon I had ever seen and I was so scared.

I don't know if anybody else in my group was scared, but I was scared. And I was like, "I'm not going to sleep because there's no reason for a moon to be that close and be that big. Like, it's gonna do something to us at night." I was like, "I'm not going to sleep." But I went to sleep, and I got up the next morning, and the moon was gone, so I was glad for that.

But then, like, every day we would get up and we would go hiking, and that was really cool. We would learn about the geography of the land, and we would learn about the crops and nature and all of that. And I was like, yeah, this is really amazing. And then we would, at night, we would go hiking, which that was different, because I'm like, why are we hiking at night? We don't need to do that. But...

We were hiking at night, and the stars would be out, and it would be amazing and beautiful. And our tour guide, he would teach us about the different things that the ancient peoples of that time would do with the stars and how the stars would tell them where to go and different things like that. And that was amazing for me because I'm used to Siri telling me...

there's a McDonald's five miles away or the weather's gonna be 50 degrees. So this was all this enlightening moment for me. I'm like, the Earth is really amazing and it tells us things and this is really great, it's amazing. And one of the nights he was teaching us about the constellations and if you're in certain parts of the Earth, you can see certain things in the sky.

So he was saying that the next night we wouldn't be able to see the constellations he was telling us about because big ass moon was coming back and it was gonna be really bright and we weren't gonna be able to see anything 'cause the moon is so bright out there, like that's the only thing that's out there, it's just like moon.

I was mad. I was like, finally, I'm not scared anymore of the moon and of all these things. I'm like, I'm not afraid anymore. And then we weren't going to be able to see the stars. So I was really upset. And the next night,

The sun's going down, moon comes back up, she's there. And there's a little dot that appeared on the moon. And I was like, that's weird. So I go to the tour guide and I'm like, there's a dot on the moon? Like, what is that? What is that about? And he's like, oh, it's a cloud. And I'm like, okay, cool. So like 20 minutes later, the cloud appeared.

is like getting bigger and I'm like, I'm not a meteorologist but I don't think that this is a cloud. And we sit there and we watch the entire big ass moon get covered and it's a lunar eclipse.

And the stars, like, fill the sky. Like, I have never seen so many stars, like, all the stars. Stars that had gone out millions of years ago, they came back and they were like, "We gonna shine."

It was so bright. There were all the constellations. We saw every constellation. Everything was there. And I was so glad in that moment that it takes me so long to make a decision that I decided that I would go camping for the first time and be in the middle of the desert, in the middle of Israel,

and see this lunar eclipse that I only could see on that side of the world at that time, that I was just glad that I'm a person that it takes long for me to make decisions and I procrastinate and that can sometimes turn out to be a good thing.

That was Alita Miles, a Los Angeles-based comedian, actor, writer, and a former host of the Moths Nashville Slam. You can find her work on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, and in her new video series, Judith Speaks. She isn't sure if that camping trip made her bolder when making decisions, but she did say that it made her feel seen, more confident, and ready to take new chances. Alita says, "'We may not always go the same route,'

But if we're choosing adventure, we might end up where we wanted to be all along. To see photos of Alita under that big-ass moon, head to our website, themoth.org. Our next story was told by Sean Wellington at a slam in New York City, where WNYC is a media partner of The Moth. Just a heads up, Sean's story talks about depression and suicidal ideation. So if you need to sit this one out, please join us in about seven minutes. Here's Sean. Thank you.

I am driving out of the parking lot of the University of North Carolina Psych Center, where I have just spent one week on the fifth floor. The fifth floor is where you go when you want to kill somebody or kill yourself. That's what they told me. Now, I did not want to kill anybody, and I did not want to kill myself. I just did not want to keep living, not the way I had been living. And this was a sort of dangerous space, this space in between.

And when there was nowhere else to go, I've tried so many places. This is where I went, the University of North Carolina Psych Center. And I'm leaving. I'm driving out. And I know that it hasn't helped. Nothing has changed. Maybe on paper, it's changed a little bit. But life isn't lived on paper. And sure, there's meds and there's a doctor. But I'm going home and nothing has changed. And I know if nothing changes, I'm going to end up back there.

I know it and it hasn't helped. I know that I'm gonna go home and I'm gonna be in this little space with the holes in the wall from my fist and my knees and I am going to be alone and I don't know what to do and I don't want to go back to the fifth floor and I don't want to go back somewhere from which maybe there is no drive back from. So I'm home and I am alone and I'm scrolling on Facebook and I see a post for a salsa dance class.

I've done some salsa when I lived here in New York. That sounds fun. I'm free. It's Monday night. It's nearby. I go. I talk to the teacher. He says, nah, this is a little different. It's not that kind of salsa. This is Cuban salsa. It's a rueda. I have no idea what he's talking about. He says, let's go. And he puts the music on and we form two circles. They're danced in groups. And I'm in the small circle, the beginner circle. And I'm doing what you do. I'm trying to learn. And it's really, really hard. But what's

It's not the hardest part. The hardest part is that it seems like everybody here knows each other. It seems like they all belong. And it feels like I have a big tattoo on my forehead, maybe my entire face saying, "This guy, he's dangerous. Don't be his friend. He doesn't belong." I feel like they know that I just got out of the psych center and I don't know what to do. And that's how I'm feeling when I leave that first Monday night and I go home and I don't want to go back.

But I also know that no matter where I go, no matter what I do or who I'm doing it with, I'm gonna feel this way. And it feels, I'm feeling a little desperate, so I go back the next Monday. And I do something I did not expect to do. When I see some of the students, I say, "Hey, remember last week we met? "I'm Sean, yeah, well, two weeks ago, "I got out of the UNC Psych Center. "I just wanted you to know." And then they say, "Okay, let's dance."

And that's what we do. We dance and I'm in the small circle and I'm learning and then I see it. I hadn't seen it last class. The other circle, the big circle, it's the advanced students and when they're dancing together to this music, it's mesmerizing. It's magical.

And so when I leave that Monday night, I'm feeling a little bit better. I'm gonna come back. And that's what I do. In fact, I start coming early and staying late because when I'm here for a couple of hours, I feel better. At least a little bit. And there's something about that circle. I really want to dance in that circle. And this goes on for a few months and I practice and practice and I haven't quit, which is really weird because I quit most things.

I go broke, I get sick, something else happens, but this feels more important. And so I stick it out. And a few months later the teacher says, "I think you're ready for the big circle." And I say, "I am not ready for the big circle. Trust me, I am not." And he says, "I think you are." I says, "I don't think you see what I see." "Come over, Sean. Try." And I do. And it's hard. I am by far the worst dancer in the big circle.

But there are these moments when I'm dancing with them, we're really moving to the music and it's magical. It's absolutely magical. And one day one of the women who's in the circle says, "We're planning a trip. We're gonna go to Cuba." Cuba is the birthplace of Cuban salsa. Yeah. "Do you want to come?" "No, no, I'm not good enough to come. I'm sorry. I'm not good enough to come." "Sean, you're good enough to come." "Well, I don't know if you... you want to come with me?" So maybe she didn't see the tattoo, but I...

Dangerous, you know. I was in a mental hospital. Yeah, we want you to come. I shouldn't go. I'm broke, but I get a credit card and I'm on a plane with seven other people and we land. We're in Havana. And we've hired a dance company.

And they're gonna show us around, but they say the first night there's no classes, put your stuff down, walk through Old Havana and meet us at the Malecon, this big long stone boardwalk. And that's what we do. Seven of us walking through Old Havana and then we see them, our dance crew, our company, and they're all there and they're all smiling and happy and there's so much joy which usually really bothers me. But not today. And they greet us with hugs and kisses and rum. Good rum. Cuban rum. And we drink. And I'm thinking, you know, eight months ago,

I was in a hospital and I was home alone and now I'm here in Havana with friends. And you know, sometimes I still have those moments when I don't want to be here. But so much has changed. And then one of the teachers put some music on, real loud. And all of us from North Carolina and Cuba, we make this really, really big circle and we do what we do. We dance. Thank you.

That was Sean Wellington, a self-described displaced New Yorker living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. He is the founder of the podcast Suicide Noted, where he talks candidly with suicide attempt survivors. And he is also the founder of Grit, a storytelling organization that centers on helping people feel a little less alone, one story at a time. I asked Sean what he wants people to take away from his story.

My main reason for crafting and telling this story and the work I do is to help people feel a little less alone. Simply because I have been there, I live there, and it's something I can do to help out and it helps me out. Now this story ends on an up note, right? I'm dancing with friends in Havana and I do know that some people like those kinds of endings and those kinds of stories. But it's also important, at least for me, to talk about the hard stuff.

The hard stuff is dealing with a broken mental health system. The hard stuff is battling depression or loneliness or being caught in a space between wanting to live and wanting to die. And mostly for me, and I think a lot of others, the hardest stuff is not being heard. There's a lot of people that feel that way. And telling a story on a stage is one of the few places where we can talk about it in a space where we ask people and they agree to listen or at least let us talk. And we don't have a lot of those places.

So while I cannot find the exact words that describe what it feels like to battle depression or deal with suicidal ideation, I can tell you it feels very important to share it and have people hear it. And maybe, hopefully, all of that helps people feel a little less alone.

If you or anyone else you know needs help, please reach out to the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by dialing 988. They are on call 24-7. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by PRX.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Suzanne Rust. And in this episode, we're sharing stories about bold moves. Remember the days when you couldn't find driving directions on your phone? Well, our next storyteller does. James Fitzgerald shared this story with us at a Moth community showcase in New York. Here's James, live with the Moth. Growing up, the most influential person in my family was my grandmother.

Not only was she our matriarch, but she was the problem solver. She was the one that everyone went to for advice, directions, guidance. And without fail, she always had the right answer or the perfect words for the situation. So even at 5'9", to us, she's a giant. She had this steel gray hair that I just imagine when she goes to the hairdresser, she just says, "Make me look serious."

Because she always was. She was always no-nonsense, very strict, not just with her own kids, but with the grandkids. Pause. Background on me. My name is James Curtis. I'm named after my grandfather who died shortly before I was born. So for me, I've tried my entire life to gain the approval of my grandmother and like,

Let her rest assured that I'm carrying the name with honor and dignity and whatever, knights or something. So, time back in. Our family's very close, so throughout the year we spend all the holidays together. Certain holidays are in certain locations. We always spend Thanksgiving at my Uncle Steve's house in Atlanta. He's the oldest of nine kids, her favorite.

Very important time of the year. Typically what we do as a family, we, you know, all the Tennessee crew, we pile in the cars, we drive down to Atlanta, spend Thanksgiving down there, and then I'll drive back. This particular year, I'm 17, freshly licensed, I have a car, and I'm thinking, okay, I get to take part in the yearly tradition of driving down to Atlanta.

for whatever reason, everyone has something to do. Work, school, apocalypse. Something's holding them back from going down to Atlanta. So I'm just like, "Okay, I got this." My grandmother's like, "How am I gonna get down there?" And I'm like, "Oh, I can do it." She's like, "Shut up while I figure this out." So I spend the next few days trying to convince her that I'm a solid option for this trip, but also subtly hinting that I'm your only option.

Eventually she laments. So it's like I feel like Tom Brady after Belichick says, get in there. And I'm just like, oh, yes. So the plan is for us to drive down there the morning of Thanksgiving, stay the night, leave probably lunchtime or whatever. The drive is like six and a half, maybe seven hours. Beautiful scenic tour as we go through the mountains of Chattanooga. It's very, very lovely. If you've never done it, find some time.

So, like, for me, also, I'm trying to do all this preparation, good night's sleep, you know, I eat some carbs, so I'm energized, all that kind of good stuff the night before, but, like, let's get into DeLorean and go back to the early 2000s. There aren't, like, really Google Maps or GPS that you can, like, reach out to, so I had to get on MapQuest.com.

I go down to the public library to the closest computer, like in my small town in Tennessee. So I not only have to look up directions how to get down there, I have to print them out so I can take them in the vehicle. My grandmother's done this trip a million times. I know she knows where we're going, but I'm in control.

Show up, ready to go. We'll stay in the past for just a second. I had to burn some CDs. So we have some good gospel music going. If you don't know what that is, ask your neighbor. So we had Kirk Franklin, Yolanda Adams, all the good gospel playing on the ride down. So it was very lovely, great conversation. I'm already feeling like a champion.

Like we get down to my uncle's place, Thanksgiving's great, you know, the turkey's delicious, everything's going splendidly. I remember sleeping that night and having a dream of being like a rock star at the family reunion as they crowd surf me for, you know, this success. So I had a good night's sleep, wake up the next morning, plan is, you know, do the same thing, you know, successfully back.

We have like a great lunch, they do some Black Friday stuff. Like as my grandmother saying her goodbyes, I'm getting the car ready, still feeling good. We get in the car, we start driving back. We come to like this geographic point, I'll just call it. I know it's important. It's an intersection or fork of I-75 and I-85. At this point, I'm also realizing I didn't print directions back, but...

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. It's like I'm somewhat confident in myself for this journey, so I'm like, oh, it's I-85. But I also have, you know, kind of a tool to verify. I'm like, hey, it's I-85, right? She's like, yeah, you know where you're going, right? I'm like, of course, it's I-85. So, like, take I-85. I'm just, like, trying to recover to let her know. It's like, I know what I'm doing here. So we keep driving, and I'm like...

just pointing the conversation towards positive things that I've done. It's like I'm on the honor roll and it's like all these other great things to get her mind off me even like appearing like I didn't know what I was doing. So like two hours go by and I'm not really seeing the typical indicators that I would letting me know we're heading back to Tennessee. But what I do see is a very big indicator welcoming us to the great state of South Carolina.

I am very excited because I've never been here before. I know my grandmother hasn't either, but I'm trying to split a little bit of this in myself because for those that are geographically challenged, South Carolina is not in the correct direction of travel. So I'm like trying to hope that my grandmother is excited for this journey that we're on. I look over and it's horror and I'm like, ah, crap. So like she's very strict and I'm like, she's going to explode. But I understand they need to pull over.

I need to figure out what's going on. So we've been driving maybe two hours. I don't know how long Atlanta to South Carolina is. I found out. But I pull over to this gas station. I go inside. I'm trying to build myself up to talk to this gas station attendant to tell them the situation, figure out what's going on, stay in control.

Go in there, tell him the situation. He plainly looks at me and he's like, in order to get back to Tennessee, what you're going to have to do is go all the way back to Atlanta. There's going to be a fork in the highway. It's going to be I-75 and I-85. What you're going to do is take I-75. You're going to go up. It's going to be a beautiful scenic tour as you go through Chattanooga. My heart dropped because, like, not only is this information distressing, but I still have to communicate it to this woman in the car. Yeah.

I don't know what she's gonna do. But like I build up the courage that's like you got to make this happen. Let's make it happen. Let's go. So I go outside. I hop in the car and I look at her and I tell the situation is like hey we got to go all the way back. You know it's probably you know gonna like take an additional like four or five hours before we get home. So like we're gonna be driving for like 18, 19 hours. I'm thinking she's gonna flip out. I'm prepared in every defensive posture that I can think of in the moment.

But what I wasn't ready for was her crying. I'd never seen my grandmother cry. Everything that I know about my grandmother presents to me one of the strongest, if not the strongest woman walking this planet at this moment. This woman in the 60s used to sell insurance door to door in the South.

She knows some things because she's seen some things. So I, you know, I'm just like stuck in this moment watching these tears roll down her face and I have no clue what to do. But then it hits me. I've been in this situation so many times in the opposite seat with my tears running down my cheeks and her ready to solve whatever problem I needed to get handled. So that's what I do. Hop in the driver's seat. I turn on the ignition. We hit the road.

All those great CDs I burned. I didn't realize that the soundtrack for our trip back was going to be, you know, the random sounds of wind at 70 miles an hour, but it was very lovely. Because we weren't doing very much talking, it was just more about the drive. That was the point for me, and just hoping she didn't, like, disarm me, like, literally, and take off my arms. So, about 15, 16, maybe even 17, who knows at this point? A lot of driving.

Finally, we pull into the driveway and I'm thinking maybe she just built up this energy on the ride back and now I'm really going to get it. And I'm just truly expecting anything at this point. And, you know, she looks over to me and she's like, you know, I don't think we could have got back without your guidance. Thank you. I really do appreciate it. She gets out of the car, walks into the house. I start to, you know, back out of the driveway and start heading home, realizing that this particular trip

may be over, but a brand new journey with my grandmother had just begun and I'm in the driver's seat. Thank you. James Fitzgerald is a U.S. Army vet who he met through a Moth Community Workshop with the NYC Veterans Alliance. He received the Purple Heart for his injuries sustained during combat in Afghanistan while serving with the 101st Airborne Division.

In 2014, he was medically retired and honorably discharged from the military. James lives in Brooklyn and works on veteran engagement and communications at Amerivet Securities in Manhattan. He says he's swapped road trips for long subway rides, less navigation, and his preferred soundtrack these days are hits from the late 80s and early 90s. Our next story takes us on a hike with Amber Jo Hatt.

She told this at a Portland Grand Slam where we partner with Oregon Public Broadcasting. Here's Amber. A real Pacific Northwest adventure. That's what I promised my friends Nick and Sarah on their last day in Portland. I didn't tell them how I'm sort of notorious for having almost killed several friends in the name of a real Pacific Northwest adventure.

Like the time that I was a whitewater rafting guide down the upper Clackamas, and as my trusting friends and I approached our first of several class four rapids, my advice as a guide was to duck and center all your weight in the middle of the boat.

And the time that Search and Rescue found my friend and I just one bush away from the cliff edge of the Pacific Ocean. Totally dark. One bush away from death. I didn't tell Nick and Sarah this because, well, total city slickers from Philadelphia, Philly. And...

Up until today, my friend Nick, his idea of a real Pacific Northwest adventure was the cannabis festival in Seattle. That's all he really cared about. And I actually drug him to the river with the promise that he can just be the stoned guy in the backseat of the car. He was very, very excited to smoke marijuana legally in the state of Washington. I think that's why he flew out. And so...

They had never been swimming in a river before. They apparently had only been to country club swimming pools. And so I was going to keep things pretty simple. Good thing because my friend Sarah, who was gorgeous, she arrives ready to swim in a thong bikini. And neither one of them thought to bring shoes, knowing that we were going to hike a few miles up this river.

So I'm not too worried about my sordid past with the Northwest, because I've been to this river a couple times already this summer. So we're going to take it easy, and we start off by at first stumbling and then just completely sliding down this embankment, landing pretty close to the river, actually. And so...

Things were not exactly as I remembered funny that they don't say this, but they should. You can't judge a river by how it looked two months earlier out here. Things have a way of changing. So the water level in the river in July was amazing. I swam through the river. There were fish like jumping out of the water. You could catch a fish with your hands, I swear.

And there's this amazing cave and that was my plan. So we're going and we're going and the water is totally shallow and they're barefoot so it makes it even harder to get going. They keep falling. They're not seeing the forest floor or all the rocks that they're falling over constantly. I just keep moving them forward. It's going to be better. Up ahead, up ahead, up ahead. It's going to be better because as you know rivers always get better towards their end late in August. Laughter

Push them forward, push them forward, push them forward. And finally, Sarah in the thong bikini is very cold. She has goosebumps on her arms. There's no more sun hitting the water because we've taken too long, and the sun is moving west, I believe. Yes, west. And I look, you know, can I get out? So I leave naked Sarah, because I have my shoes, and I go look to see if I can somehow...

hoist my chubby body up like four stories of embankment to get to the road. Alas, I cannot. I get back in the water to join them. And as I near closer to them, something doesn't look quite right because Sarah, who kind of always has a nasty look on her face, has a more nasty look on her face. She looks sick almost. And Nick is looking at me with his arms in the air like, what are you going to do now, huh? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do now?

I'm like, what, what? And I'm trying to get to them and I'm slipping and I'm falling. And I fall and I land on this dead salmon that's like the size of my arm. Its eyes are looking at me, even though it's dead, its eyes are looking at me like, I've heard about your Pacific Northwest adventures, Amber. And I'm looking at this fish and then Nick says, I can hear Nick, I'm close enough now, and he says to me like, dead fish, dead fish.

And then I look and I ground myself and I'm present now and I look out and what looked before like a football field of just shallow rocks jetting out of shallow water, it's actually a sea, just like this, of dead fish the size of my arm. Or your arm if you're taller. They're all completely dead. 200 dead fish lined up like this. This is the Washougal River in Washington.

The water has like an inch of slick vitamin E oil on the top of it. The stench of a few hundred rotting salmon smells like rotting fish. It is nasty. And the rocks are very slippery on the rock bed of the river. And trying to get going is like a cartoon character just slipping and sliding.

And then I look at the fish and I'm like, we are so screwed. The sun's setting, there's all these dead fish. And I look at this fish and I'm like, what? Like, this is foreboding, really, for my Pacific Northwest adventure. But then I look at the fish and I hear the fish's story and we are layering our story of death onto these fish. And then I look at my friends and I'm like, these fish aren't dead. These fish are warriors. These fish were born here.

They went out to ocean and they came back surviving all odds. They climbed on top of other fish, they made it through the Columbia River, they made it up the Dugan Falls. We couldn't climb Dugan Falls. They made it through the fisheries, they had some sex, they laid some eggs, and they died. These fish are heroes and the smell is calling the bears to come get them so they can be pooped out of the bear and provide nitrogen to the soil. It's the circle of life. Let's go.

And my friends internalized the power of story to motivate us. And we took on the will of the salmon and we forged ahead. And we made it in time, made it back to the city, and we feasted on salmon at the radio room for dinner. Thank you. That was Amber Jo Happ. She works as a mental health therapist for children and adolescents in Portland, Oregon.

Despite the fish incident, Amber says that her passion for Pacific Northwest adventures has only grown stronger. And any given weekend, she is out there kayaking, camping, and water hiking. To see some photos of Amber in her element, you can find them on our website, the moth.org. ♪♪♪

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by PRX. You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Suzanne Rust. Our next story was told by Rachel Pomeroy at a Milwaukee slam where we partnered with public radio stations WPR and Radio Milwaukee. The theme of the night was gumption. Here's Rachel live with The Moth. It's 1997.

I'm a young officer in the United States Air Force. It is a Saturday night at 1 a.m., a muggy Saturday night at 1 a.m. in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and I'm where I should not be alone. I'm at a gas station right outside Fort Bragg by myself.

Now, I didn't plan it this way. Fayetteville's an army town, and if you've never been to an army town, it's full of strip clubs and pawn shops and bars and lots of things that, oh yeah, and the 50,000 82nd Airborne Infantry.

Mostly men between the ages of like 18 and 35. So you can imagine Saturday night bar time, not a great idea to be alone at a gas station. But I'm just coming off of work and I'm still dressed in my battle dress uniform and for us Wisconsinites that is a camouflage outfit that looks a lot like duck hunting.

Or a Packer game outfit without a cheese head. Either way. So there I am, combat boots, the whole camouflage uniform, and I'm standing there filling up my car with gas because I was on empty. That's why I ended up at the gas station, obviously. And I'm hoping to God that I can get that gas tank filled really, really quickly. However, in the meantime, in flies a Pontiac, red Pontiac, right on cue, right?

full of guys, the radio's thumping, there's smoke billowing out of it, you know, they all have high and tight haircuts, and they're like, they're having a good time. And I'm thinking, oh, don't make eye contact, don't make eye, you know, don't make eye contact. But, you know, they're cheering and yelling, and I'm thinking, they're just having a good time. And then, all of a sudden, I realize they're jeering, and it's at me, and I'm like, ugh, exactly what I didn't want to happen tonight. And pretty soon, they were, you know,

floating some invitations my way to keep things PG. I'll just tell you it involved one person's face and me in a seating arrangement that I did not want to do. And I was pretty much gonna just not say anything, but then I just really started to get angry. You know, I was tired. I hadn't slept in like three days because we'd just done a chemical warfare training exercise on base where I'd been awake wearing a snowmobile suit with a gas mask for, you know, 95 degree heat for a couple days. I'm

My hair's all matted, my head, you know, I hadn't showered, and here I am like, "Seriously, guys? Seriously? This is what you're after tonight?" So, anyway, I skipped to the fun part here. It gets worse. I try and say something back to them. I can't keep my mouth in check, you can see. So I had quickly jump in my car, lock the doors, get out of there, and I'm speeding home. I'm looking in the rearview mirror. I'm pretty sure they're going to follow me, but they're not.

So I get home and then I start to ruminate on this. I'm thinking about it and I'm like, "God, it used to be just that when I go to the gym or I'm running outside, I get the cat calls because I'm not wearing a uniform or I'm going out with my girlfriends and we're all dressed up and we got to go in pairs to the bathroom." This is kind of like the life that you live in a big army town.

I was really angry because I was like, look, now I'm in uniform and this is, you know, I've drawn this line and people step over it and then I draw another line and they step over it again and pretty soon there's no line. You know, like now in uniform I'm gonna pop with this?

So Monday morning I march into my commander's office and the discussion, by the way, with my friends at the time was, you know, you have no evidence. It was verbal, big deal. They didn't physically hurt you. You know, there's a whole lot worse that could have happened. Count your lucky stars. Don't show these guys who you are because then they'll hunt you down.

But I marched into my commander's office anyway and I said, "This doesn't fly with me." And I told him about it and he said, "Well, you can make an anonymous statement to the JAG and the MPs." So I did that. A couple days later he comes back and he says, "I got good news and bad news." I'm like, "Okay."

The good news is they're going to take this to a court martial. The license plate you memorize as you're speeding out of there matches up with the car you described, and we're going to go after these guys. And I'm like, okay, yay. And unfortunately, then he said, the bad news is that you've got to go on record. So now they know my face, they know my car, they know my rank, they know I'm in the Air Force, which is small compared to the Army there.

And they're like, you know, I'm like, they're going to know where I live because in 1997 we had these things called phone books that everybody put their address in next to their name.

They're going to pretty quick know where I live. And I was really torn about whether to do this, but I thought a lot about my image about what I thought when I came into the military. I saw that recruiting poster, and it's the guy, it's the woman and the man in their uniform, and they're solemnly looking out, and the flag is behind them, and everybody's treated equally, and it's all great. And not some jerk ogling you at the gas station with a lit cigarette, you know,

near your pump, you know, this is not what I pictured. So I reported it and fortunately they pressed charges and these gentlemen got punished and I had the choice to either be there or not be there. And I chose to be there because I felt that everybody deserves to see their accuser. Everybody has the right to see their accuser, I felt. And I wanted them to know I am not afraid

even though I am afraid at the time. But what I felt I was reclaiming was my right to serve with respect. That was Rachel Pomeroy. She currently works as a vacation property manager and volunteers as a mountain bike coach for the local high school team. Rachel is a writer and says that she's getting some great inspiration from the Moth's latest book, How to Tell a Story, which of course makes us very happy.

I wondered how frightening it must have been for her to report those men and where she got her courage from. And I also wanted to know if there were any ramifications after her report. My mom and two older sisters, as well as many women I went to school with, were really great examples of strong and capable women who refused to be objectified.

I also knew I stood on the shoulders of many women in the Air Force as well as men who came before me as the first of their marginalized kind and that this was a chance for me as a part of that community to speak up for something that could be changed. And in retrospect, both my commander and the commander of these men were members of that minority community, which is something I did not even think about at the time. But I do know that that helped.

In terms of ramifications for my reporting, there weren't really any in my own unit, except for maybe some of the jokes got a lot more PG around me. But who knows? Maybe that's real change. And a couple years later, I got out. So let's hope it's stuck. To see photos of Rachel Pomeroy during her time in service, go to themoth.org.

Our final story takes place on the streets of a city in India, and it was told by Mohammed Zeeshan Naimuddin in New York, where WNYC is a media partner of the month. Here's Mohammed.

So I was born in Hyderabad, which is a very congested town in South India, about the size of Boston. And every morning, our family driver would take my sisters and I to school and back promptly at 8 o'clock, and then he would pick us up promptly, first me at 5, and then we would go to my sister's school, and then he would drop us off. One day, I was 5 years old, and...

I get out of school at 5 and Abdul's not there. And the thing is Abdul was always on time, never late at once until that time. So I get out there, I see he's not there and little five year old me is like, "Oh shit, what do I do now?" And as far as I knew I was stranded and I kind of had to get home because clearly this man's not coming.

I think he was maybe like a minute late, but this is me panicking. So anyway, I had two options. One was to go back into school and talk to my teachers. But teachers in India hit kids. They take a ruler and just go to town on you for silly little things like getting a question wrong.

And I think that day I messed up the multiplication tables or something like that. So I was hurting and I just didn't feel like going back in. So that was off the menu. Number two was walk the four miles through the heart of Heatherbod, it back home. And the thing is, like looking back at it, that's a really ridiculous thing for a kid to do. So here's a little five year old me, like, you know, this tall and with a little book bag and whatnot. And I'm like, all right, I'm going to go

towards go back home. And it wasn't really like a hard trip. Straight road, one right, and there you are. So I set off on the main road, and at the time I was going through this really big James Bond phase. So I start walking, and I'm like humming the James Bond tune, like da-da-da-da.

The entire time. And so in this manner, I reached about three and a half miles in two hours. And I get to Charminar, which is this massive former mosque, which is a huge cultural attraction in India. So I knew at that point I had to make a right. But the thing is, because it's a huge tourist attraction, you get a lot of tourists taking pictures in front of it and whatnot. And I am nothing if not a huge fan of photobombing. And especially back then.

So I would like wait until I saw people like getting ready to take a picture and I would just time it time and time it and then while humming the James Bond tune I would like just jump behind them and do like stupid little kid pose like or like smiling or whatever and so I did this for like half an hour until I got really bored and I was like alright it's time for me to go home and then I called it a day and now it's only about a half mile to where is my neighborhood at and the problem is between that half mile I had to pass my uncle's pharmacy

And I didn't want him to see me because if he saw me, maybe I'd get in trouble or something like that. And the way his pharmacy was set up was that it was a narrow store and instead of a door at the front, it was kind of like a bar. So people would go up to the bar and they would ask him for what they needed and he would go to the back, get it, things like that.

And I was like, okay, if I do this properly, I can just sneak by underneath the bar. And as long as he's not at the bar itself, he's not going to see me. And this is where the James Bond thing really took into full effect for me. And I got around the corner. I see him there. And I just waited, waited, waited until he went back into the store. At which point I slowly crawled. And I really did that slow, what I thought spies had to do. You know, like that really purposeful...

walk and I get underneath the bar and as I'm like slowly slowly going across the storefront I hear his voice coming towards the front of the store and I'm like oh crap the jig is up and I just froze waited waited waited must have been hours probably seconds um until he went until the noise you know went back and he went back into the store and the moment that happened I hauled ass and I just ran home and I get to our gate I open the gate and

And my mom and dad and my sisters are there with four cops and literally every person I've ever met in my life. And it's been like three and a half hours. And if you guys are parents, you know that probably means that if you haven't seen your kid, bad things are happening. And I think they were just organizing the biggest manhunt ever.

And here I am, I casually just like saunter in through the garden and my parents just lose it with like happiness. And I think they were just so stunned that I was alive and not like kidnapped somewhere that they just like didn't ask any questions. They were just really happy about it. And so, you know, that should be the end of the story. But the thing is, the thing is, here I am, five-year-old me having had this awesome adventure and

And nobody believes me. The thing is, my parents and my sisters, they all just assumed that somebody recognized me along the road and figured, realized who I was and then just dropped me off at home and didn't stick around. And that's always been the assumption. But the thing is, that's not what happened. I remember it. I walked this street. I survived, man. I survived meeting streets of Heatherbud.

The thing is, I know for a fact that there's photo proof that I did this because I photobombed so many people. So I implore you, if you know anybody who in 1992 went to Heatherbod, maybe took a picture, and if there's like a five-year-old kid photobombing them, please let me know because my family needs proof, and I need proof so that people will finally believe me. Thank you. That was Mohamed Zeeshan Naimuddin.

He is a lung and intensive care physician who lives in Seattle with his wife. The couple recently had a son, and Muhammad says he hopes the little boy doesn't share his passion for taking dangerous solo trips. But he guesses that he probably will.

To see a photo of Muhammad as a more cautious adult, go to themoth.org. Oh, and if you happen to have been in Muhammad's neck of the woods a few decades ago and have some photos with the cute little boy photobombing in the back, would you let him know? That's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour. Thanks so much for listening. We hope you'll join us next time.

This episode of the Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Katherine Burns, and Suzanne Rust, who also hosted the show. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, associate producer Emily Couch. The stories were directed by Chloe Salmon, with additional Grand Slam coaching by Jennifer Hickson. The rest of the Moth leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin-Ginesse, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cloutier, Brandon Grant, Inga Glodowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Caza.

Special thanks to the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, the AT&T Foundation, POV, the Kate Spade Foundation, and the Laurie M. Tisch Illumination Fund for their support of the Moth Community Showcase.

Most stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Krungbin, Orlando Lopez, The Soul Stirrers, Rob Stenson, Marisa Anderson, and Stellwagen Symphonette. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by...

by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.