My 19-year-old son was stranded in downtown Orlando, FL, and ended up getting mugged (including his cell phone), sleeping in a parking garage, and walking a portion of the 40-mile trip home. His story actually began on Oct. 12, but it was appropriately probably Friday the 13th when things turned sour. He finally reached me with a collect call late on the afternoon on the 13th, and I picked him up.
He said that one of the thoughts he had as he walked those many miles was how he would have great stories to tell about his misadventure.
Later, though, as his ordeal worsened, he realized that the bad thing about having stories to tell is that you have to live the rotten experience that yields the stories.