When I was about 8 years old, my best friend and I were working together door to door. Someone shot at us. I was too young to know what kind of gun it was (my guess now is it was a pellet gun of some sort), but I felt the projectile whiz right past my face. It misses me by inches. Another time, when I was 10 years old, I was going door to door with an elderly brother (we were in unassigned territory). At one door, the man who answered the door was really angry and started shouting at us. The brother answered him very calmly and said that we would leave, but as we turned to walk away, the householder ran out of the house and kicked the elderly brother in the ass, sending him tumbling down about a dozen stairs. After he stumbled to his feet and we started down the sidewalk toward the car, the man ran after us, yelling at us not to go to any other houses in the town. We got to the car and drove to the sheriff's office to file a report. When the sheriff went back to the man's house, he had cleared out. We left and went back home, where we belonged.
My dad got attacked by two dogs once. He used his big leather briefcase to protect his legs; it was shredded and his literature was strewn all over the street.
My mom had a householder say, "Just a minute," when she offered the magazines. My mom thought the woman was going to get change, but when she came back to the door, she had a gun in her hand, which she pointed at my mom.
My sister had a bird poop in her hair one time when we were working door to door. That was probably the worst experience of all, because she was about 15 and had long beautiful hair. I remember using handbills to try to get it out of her hair.