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[Smithy]

i think me and smithy should combine.
period.

SMITHFISH, ASSEMBLE!

 


 :D

[shinygerbil]

Urban exploration is the shit. Me and some of my mates went to this abandoned hospital once, it was fucking awesome, though I did manage to cut myself on nothing in particular and permanently damage my phone by dropping it. Kinda creepy though; a hospital, but like crumbled and broken and missing floors and shit. Hospital stuff everywhere, probably diseases too.

I'd love to do it more, but London being London, I'd probably have to carry a knife or five, and knowing my luck, I'd get arrested for it.

Also I had this awesome dream once where I found these amazing tunnels and waterworks under Waterloo Station. It was quite disappointing to wake up.

[team_q]

I've never found cool shit urban exploring, I don't like the unpredictably of the environment, but I have found cool stuff in Algonquin Park. We found an abandoned pool in the middle of a forest grown island, that was pretty cool.

[fish]

when i graduaed from high school, we had a prom.
then, we had a post-prom camping party.
right after the end of prom night, everybody jumped in cars and vans and drove an hour out of town to go set up tents in this huge forest.

i had my first LSD experience that night. took 2.

i dont remember how i got it but i had one of those rever glowsticks and it meant the fucking WORLD to me.

anyway, at some point i banded up with people from school, that in 5 years i had i never spoken to. we went n a wild forest LSD forest exploration glostick adventure.
in the middle of the forest, we found A RAVE.
there was this clearing, and a hill. and on the hill, hundreds of people dancing. loud beats and fucking stroboscopes.
and i was on acid.

single best random discovery ever.

[Xion]

you're my role model.

[team_q]

I drove from Niagara Falls, where my prom was, directly to Port Dover, where the camping was. Then we partied, we didn't do any hard drugs, but we had a bitchin' campfire with songs and shit, we swam out to the first sandbar and drank beer in the lake.That night we slept on the beach. Then we got up at 7 and ate peanuts and drank beer playing euchre all morning.

Also my underage drunkin' karaoke version of Dynamite Hack's rendition of Boys in the hood at TGIFridays was probably the highlight of prom. I kinda wish I skipped prom and just went straight to camping though.

[reetva]

Actually, now that you mention it, I read a book that inspired me to do something like this. It was, "Down and Out in Paris and London," by George Orwell, specifically the London part. It details Orwell's life as a tramp. The London part was all about him exploring London's dark-but-not-so-dark side. Anyways, there are some non-urban-but-still-fascinating places in the nearby mountains that I think I'll check out. Thank you, kind sir, for inspiring me to do something awesome. 

PS: Once, I found a guy with a pistol and a rifle in the mountains. We had to ask him for directions and, holy shit, for a second, I could have sworn he was going to shoot us.

[Ivan]

when i was 16 i went back to russia (where im originally from) for the summer. in july or so, i went with some friends to this big hippie gathering/festival a few hours outside of saint-petersburg. it was in the middle of nowhere, a few miles outside of some small town and it was really fun! almost two weeks of being high as a kite and living in a tent with random hippie girls and other fun people. our tent was circus-colored with a human skull that someone found in the woods crowning the main post. one guy took mushrooms and thought that he was walking through the desert while he was actually walking through everyone's campfires.
anyway, one day we woke up in the tent to the sound of helicopters and as we crawled outside, we saw just that, hovering over the field, with special forces guys with machine guns zipping down on ropes. apparently the people of the little town nearby thought that this was some sort of evil drug cult and we were dumping LSD into their water supply, so they went to the authorities who organized an entire operation to clear things out. anyway, things almost got really bad when they saw that we had a human skull adorning our tent, but we managed to explain to them that we found it nearby. so, all in all, i ended up getting kicked in the stomach by a special forces guy, and spent the night in a russian juvenile facility.
before i got released the next morning, they tried to explain to me that i was involved in some drug cult and that those people "high on marijuana" could have killed me at any time in a drug-induced frenzy. it was pretty funny.

[Farbs]

  Holy fuck.

When I met a bunch of TIGers at the Irish Bank () I was afraid of the people outside the pub. I'd assumed all indie devs were nerdy little marsupials like myself. I'm lucky to have escaped with my sense of reality intact.

[fish]

ivan, you just won the thread, i believe.

we totally all need to hit the irish bank again.
i went back at some point during the extra week i spent in the city after missing my plane. i went there again one afternoon, got SMASHED on black velvets, ate sourkrout and bangers and wrote down stuff about the trip for hours.

 

[fish]

another one.

a few summers ago, myself, a lady friend of mine and her boyfriend went to this houseparty. Nick, the boyfriend had just scored some mushrooms, AND already had some E.
we were feeling adventurous, so the plan was to mix both at some point in the evening.

the apartment was great. it had a huge kitchen with a tall ceiling, and on the ceiling was a large sun-bubble type of window. Raphie, the friend, pointed out that on the porch outside, on the tiny porch, there was a table, with a chair on it, and on the chair a wooded ladder that led to the roof! we rallied the gang, got some paint and brushes and decided the rooftop was clearly THE place to mix drugs. and so we did.

for a while there we were painting all sorts of random stuff on the inside of the little wall surrounding the roof. i remember drawing a little ghost. we hung out there for a while, spying on the people in the kitchen. i love spying on people from above because seriously, no one ever looks up.

up to this point we had spent maybe half an hour in the actual party, and a few on the roof. we decided we liked the roof so much that we should pull in the ladder, preventing anybody else from joining in.

we started exploring the neighboring rooftops. with a few climbs and a few jumps, you could travel pretty far in both directions, but at some point we either hit a wall too high, or a gap too wide. but then we had an idea! we should just take the ladder with us on the other rooftops! with it we managed to climb the high wall and go even further, until we hit a wall even too high for our ladder. then we went in the other direction, where the gap was. the ladder was long enough to position it like a bridge across the gap. we almost dropped it when we placed it, but there it was, our little wooden bridge. we stood there for a while, being scared. it was a 4 story fall. raphie was kneeling in front of, it about to try and cross it when i pointed out we were both on a very strange mix of halucigenic food poisoning, and crazy raver sex-drugs. she agreed we were idiots, and we pulled the bridge back in.

later that night, we took the paint and brushes with the later and went to the high wall and painted a little mural (with the help of ladder), until a truck drove by in the alley and stopped right in front of us. we hid in the corner and stayed silent for minutes. we had no idea if we'd been spotted or not, or if we could sneak by undetected with a fucking 7 foot ladder and buckets of paint. then the guy in the truck started pulling out all sorts of equipment, including a ladder of his own, which he used to attach spotlights to a telephone pole. what the fuck? while he was busy doing that, we did manage to sneak by and get back to our roof.

when we got back in and told our story, somebody that there had been some shooting for a TV show going on in the burg, so that dude must have been setting up a scene before everybody showed up in the morning.

so that was fun.

[medieval]

My town is wannabe-urban, so there goes the challenge for me

[Akhel]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

[Bree]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

Seconded.

[Cheater‽]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

Seconded.

Thirded

[Xion]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

Seconded.

Thirded

Fourthded

[Hideous]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

Seconded.

Thirded

Fourthded

Fifthededed.

[Massena]

Reading this thread makes me feel like I'm wasting my youth.

Seconded.

Thirded

Fourthded

Fifthededed.

Sexed

Bah, them old people taught us to be way too cautious.

[Derek]

ivan, you just won the thread, i believe.

we totally all need to hit the irish bank again.
i went back at some point during the extra week i spent in the city after missing my plane. i went there again one afternoon, got SMASHED on black velvets, ate sourkrout and bangers and wrote down stuff about the trip for hours.

 

Agreed on all fronts.  Holy CRAP, Ivan.

[Smithy]

The story of how my truck caught fire and blew up, leaving me stranded in the northwoods, is as long as it is epic. Gather 'round, and I shall tell you a tale!

 

See, the thing about my truck was... It always had overheating problems
And

I'm not sure where to start.

It just always had heating problems.

Mechanic friend of mine told me the system wasn't pressurized. We tried replacing the cap, but that wasn't it, so any fix would be out of reach, expense wise. I suppose the thing was going down hill since day one, so it was bound to break down eventually.

Anyway

We were twigging, my brother and I. Along with one of my cousins and his friend.

Twigging is a bad (badass) occupation. We couldn't cut firewood anymore because it was fall and we couldn't tell which trees were dead and dried out and which weren't. We cut the branches off of balsam trees with shears, quickly as we could, for eight hours a day. Couldn't use a hedge trimmer because the noise carries surprisingly well through the land and we didn't want the forestry dicks coming to investigate. Loaded the sticks into our trucks and sold them to a local wreath warehouse, so they could be woven into symbols of disposable income.

We got roughly 1800 pounds of sticks loaded into the back of our trucks on the average day, but on this particular day we had over 2,000 pounds when we took off for town, we were certain.

It was a rainy day. Pouring, drenching rain. Cold, autumnal rain. Summer had been a record drought and the weather had caught us somewhat off guard. I should have known then that something was up. Something cosmic. The coincidental, kick-in-the-pants kind of Justice was going to be portioned out for everything I had gotten away with up until that point.

Town was pretty far away, many miles down the highway. There were little villages along the way, but nothing substantial. All of them had piddly populations, probably less than a hundred. It was just a logging highway, basically.

Less than halfway to town, our truck started overheating. We pulled to the side to see what was up. The transmission oil had all leaked out--the people who originally engineered the truck designed it so that the tranny oil would leak when the truck was overheating, so the truck would be forced to stop and nothing would warp and get fucked up. Anyway, we didn't care about that. We wanted our money from the balsam boughs. We had made it to Pence, a small village several miles before the warehouse.

We had a drum of hydraulic oil in the back of the truck, filled the transmission with that, and kept moving. We refused to turn around.

We leaked oil all the way there. Every two miles or so, we'd run out and have to stop to fill the transmission up again, and we kept going.

There was a little hill on the way up to the warehouse--we got stuck on it. Couldn't make it up. Traffic was building up behind us. People were getting pissed. Some guy drove up the side of the hill, over the grass and around us. He had tow wires on the back of his truck and towed us in to the warehouse, where we unloaded our truck and were paid.

The truck miraculously started, we started driving out, on our way down the hill on the other side we ran out of gas and stalled out on the dividing line of the highway. We were blocking both lanes completely--and we had a wagon hitched to the back, so I mean we were blocking both lanes completely.

A logging truck was coming. My brother desperately tried to start the engine, I volunteered to get out and push, as soon as I started stepping out the truck started again and we sped off and parked in a nearby parking lot.

Didn't stop there though.

My cousin and his friend came in their truck, stopped by us.

They had an empty gas bucket in their truck. I don't know why--but they volunteered to stay by my truck and let my brother and I take their truck to town to get gas. Not sure why the switch was necessary.

We went to the nearest gas station which was in the city about seven miles out, came back with three gallons of gas because it was all we could afford with the cash we had on hand, and by the time we got back to our truck, my cousin's truck's tank was empty.

After we sorted the problem out and switched back into our normal vehicles, we started heading back home. We were totally homefree. My truck was running smoothly, it was no longer overheating or leaking any oils.

And on the hill--on the one paved stretch of road in the entire village, my truck died. All the oil leaked. My brother revved out the engine. We were stuck.

It was raining outside. It was drenching, dreary, and cold.

I stepped out, made some smartass remark; "On the bright side, nothing else can go wrong!" and walked a few feet out. When I turned, I noticed that the truck, along with the long oilslick we had left all the way up the hill, was on fire. I yelled at my brother to get out and we stood in the rain, watching the fire. It was amazing.

I shouted "Forward!" (that being the wisconsin state motto,) and started laughing at my funny, funny joke.

Brother just stared at me like I was nuts.