Some people spend their mornings being stuck in traffic on their way to work, binge-hearing true crime podcasts, or wandering through IKEA arguing about bookshelves. We, on the other hand, spent ours kidnapping a man.
Before you imagine anything questionable:
Yes, he knew.
Yes, he wanted to participate.
Yes, we overplanned everything like two women who color-code their grocery lists.
The Plan
You know those moments when someone says, “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if…?” and everyone laughs, but then someone else says, “No seriously, we could.” That was us.
And so Vivien and Lara began brainstorming a scene dramatic enough for Hollywood but controlled enough for a kindergarten safety lesson. As a result, we had:
- A rented transporter that looked suspicious enough to belong in a low-budget action movie
- Black duct tape (of course with a scissor in our pocket), cuffs, a blindfold, a black bag and some cardboard (to protect his head a little bit)
- Two women in black outfits that were a mixture between “art student aesthetic” and “mysterious operative”
- A man so excited about being “kidnapped” that he reminded us to “really sell it”
Honestly, his enthusiasm and his willingness to give his all got us excited and overly motivated. He even prepared clothes for us we could destroy while dragging him into our little hell.
The Big Moment & The Wrong Witness
Our target stood exactly where we agreed—and he wasn’t alone.
Next to him, in a parked car, was a stranger happily eating breakfast. Not hurried breakfast, not casual snacking, but full, relaxed morning feast, complete with chewing patience only seen in people who truly believe the world is peaceful.
Our “victim” send us a message. He brought a witness!
We gave him instructions to walk somewhere else – towards us. But of course: A parcel delivery driver blocked our way, so he walked past us. Except that neither we nor he had seen each other.
We drove to the original meeting point, parked very close to a fence and gave him new instructions. The fence and the opened passenger door gave us protection.
We stepped out, looking fierce and intimidating.
Our willing “victim” put on an Oscar-worthy performance, gasping dramatically and playing the innocent lamb.
We pushed him into the transporter, pressed him down, cuffed and taped him. It was so obvious why we had to arrest him: he was a perpetually horny good-for-nothing who harassed women. Delivering us proof, that he enjoyed this way too much by presenting the bulge in the pants.
The Ramp of Doom
Once he was in the transporter and „safely“ put in place, we were ready to add a little theatrical terror. Nothing harmful, nothing dangerous—just some extra drama. So we drove up and down the ramp of a parking garage… for no reason other than to force him to wonder what in the world we were doing.
If someone saw only the footage, they’d assume we were maybe arguing with a GPS that kept shouting, “RECALCULATING!”
He couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear every clunky gear shift and feel the transporter leaning in different directions.
Let’s just say: the goal of mild theatrical dread was achieved. And we were scared that he might throw up.
The Duct Tape Sunglasses
Our final destination was Studio LUX located on a busy street. By the time we arrived, it was nearly 11 a.m.—prime people-watching hour. And apparently, we were about to be the entertainment.
To keep our willing participant in character without alarming the entire neighborhood, we used our invented disguise: a normal pair of sunglasses with duct tape inside the lenses, blocking his view without letting strangers realize it. Brilliant. Genius.
But he was also wearing black handcuffs in front of his body—perfectly visible. Not shiny silver ones, not toy plastic ones—moodily matte black, like designer accessories for sourced villainy.
People stared.
Not suspiciously, but with the same fascination you’d reserve for a street performer or someone pushing a shopping cart full of bananas. Curiosity without alarm. One woman even smiled at us. Not sure if she thought we were filming a movie, committing performance art, or running the world’s weirdest bachelorette party.We escorted him toward the entrance like two overconfident extras in a spy action movie. He shuffled forward, unable to see, with absolutely fearful, uncertain steps. The duct-taped sunglasses worked perfectly. Lara was wearing sharp metal claws on her fingers, grabbing his neck, forcing him to move forward faster.We took him to the studio, tied his hands, and tore his clothes off. From there, our relentless interrogation began. And lasted for several hours.
The Debrief
Would We Do It Again? Without hesitation.
Was it scary? Only for our passenger.
Was it dramatic? Absolutely.
Did we get stared at like urban gang members? More than we deserved.
Will you be our next „victim“? Only if you dare...
