Young, Innocent and Stupid
First day at Uni, first day in London.

Walking from Highbury and Islington station to college up Highbury Hill ... wearing a Spurs top.
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:18, Reply)

Go to Hull
I used to have to commute into Hull* everyday! Enough said

*The actual Hull not the more pleasant and friendly Hell
(hullygully, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:13, Reply)

got a postcard from my friend sarah in greece:
low point: being pissed on by a stray cat at the port with a 24 hour bus ride ahead of us.

high point: shower after pissing incident.

amused me anyway!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:11, Reply)

Singapore to Kuala Lumpur
a couple of old school chums and i have recently returned from travelling round asia...

there were many low points, and many highs, but this one combined the two.

having stayed in the "catholic hostel" (biggest roach infested crap hole ever. proof there is no god, me thinks... or if there is, he hates catholics)we had to leave Singapore on a train bound for KL at about 6 in the morning.

cut to three malnourished english chaps desperatly trying to hail a taxi at 5:45am so we can catch THE ONLY train north. sadly,looking like utter reprobates, no cabbie would stop for us, until a very nice man in a white van pulled over.

"jump in boys" he cried in broken engrish. cue us looking at each other, and thinking... fuck it, and jumping straight in.

he proceeded to regail us with tales about his job running a massage parlour, and would we like some "boom boom?". no mate, we've gotta catch a train now, so hurry up if you want your 50-bloody-pence.

finally, our unlicenced cabbie drops us off at the station, and we bail and leg it it catch the train.

one problem. i'd managed to leave my mini backpak in the back of this guy's van, containing my passport, train tickets, wallet, digital camera, and just about everything of any importance.

cue me running like a madman out for the station trying to catch up with his van which speeds off into the distance.

as you can imagine, i was not best pleased, as there was no way of tracking him down, and i would probably deported, and/or arrested for being a fool.

so the rest of the day was spent at the police station being questioned, (no, i didnt know this man; no he wasnt a proper taxi driver; no, i dont know where his massage parlour/brothel is located; no i didnt have any "boom boom"... etc)the immigration services, and finally the british embassy, where i was expecting to be put inside a box and shipped straight back to blitey (my travelling companions shooting progessively more hateful glances my way as each hour went by).

then, the phone rang. it was a miracle.

our friendly neigbourhood pimp/cabbie had found my bag in the back of his van, and returned it to the railway station! my passport, camera, and all my money was stil there - sadly, the man himself wasnt, so i never got to thank him. what a legend.

with my faith in humanity restored, the next day we continued on our way. and that was that!

"boom boom!"
(bodders i'm a mighty pirate, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:06, Reply)

Yet another train story...
Summer 2004 Id just finished my 2nd year of uni and a few of us went to Durham to see a friend who had gone to the uni there. Weekend went well, very well infact as I ended up in bed with one his housemates.
So after about of a week of talking to each other on the phone I decide to go and visit her again before she jets off to Italy. Hop on the train and off we go. At somepoint a solider on leave from the army sits next to me and starts to slowly get drunk. He was on his way to Scotland. The train stops just before Darlington. Twenty minutes later we still havent moved. Then it gets annoncened that Darlington has been struck by lightning, they had no idea how long it would be.
I tried to phone the girl to let her know but there was no signal. We had booked a table at restaurent and as time passed I had images of her sitting there alone becoming increasingly furious with me. The squaddie next to me just keeps on getting pissed. Then the war stories start....
Turns out he was given leave because at somepoint he had shot and killed a child who was shooting at him. The guy was on the verge of tears and probably a complete nervous breakdown. I had no idea what I could do or say to him. To top it off none of the toilets on the train worked.
Three hours I was stuck there. Three grueling hours of wanting to escape and urinate. Finally we get moving and I get a phone signal. Sort out what had happened with the girl. Just on the otherside of Darlington......there had been a fault with a line. Another 45 minutes sat there.
I finally got to Durham looking forward to that meal. Of course the restaurent had long since shut.
I had alot of sex though. So it was worth it in the end.

Ended up with that girl for 15 months. I also complained and got a refund for the outward part of my return ticket. I now complain everytime something goes wrong, Ive always had at least a £10 rail voucher. Handy if you travel alot like me.
(reesy22, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:05, Reply)

Simultaneous Expulsion of Faeces and Vomitus
In Thailand travelling with friends last year, we decided to get the bus from Bangkok down to Chumporn where we could jump on a ferry to dive on Koh Tao. This sounded like a great idea, except that it was an 8 hour overnight coach journey. Even worse were the stories (and posters) we had heard/seen telling of the gassing of passengers with sleeping gas on these coaches so that they could have their belongings stolen.

If anyone hasn't seen the style of toilet most favoured in Thailand, it is usually a toilet with no flush and a hose, or a toilet with no flush and a bucket. This coach was equipped with the latter.

We set off from Bangkok and the journey started off fine, and without incident. After about an hour I decided to go to the toilet and urinate. This was quite a hard task as:

1) The lock on the door didn’t work
2) There was no light

Therefore, pissing in a rank toilet with one hand on the door and one hand on my phone to try and illuminate the situation wasn't the easiest of tasks.

I then sat back down, and I noticed a nice young girl of about 20. She looked like death, and then asked me in broken English if I had any pain killers. I said no.

About half an hour later, she ran to the toilet which was opposite me. What then happened next will stay with me for the rest of my life.

The poor girl was sitting on the toilet, vomiting into the bucket used to flush the toilet when the door flew open. As the coach drove down the Thai motorways the streetlights intermittently lit up her semi-naked form retching into a bucket. Yuk.
(hankoelspanko, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:04, Reply)

Drove upto Gretna Green to get married.
Hired a brand new Vauxhall Vetra Estate (50 miles on the clock), filled up with the luggage and picked up the best man, me sister and of course the wife-to-be.

We drive up from Swansea to bonnie-Scotland, which is a good 10 hour drive at least. It's also a bit of a killer when there is torrential rain too, so we stopped in the 1st services in Cardiff for breakfast. Once done, we carry on driving, unaware that we had indeed picked up a stowaway.

My sis is sitting in the back seat directly behind me and we're making good time (about halfway between Birmingham and Manchester). Suddenly me sis shouts;

"Oh my fucking god! There's a fucking bird in the car!"

"Oh yeah, sure there is. Sure you just haven't dropped a brownie you fattie?"

"No, there's a fucking sparrow or something under your seat!"

After 5 minutes of her saying this we eventually agree to pull over in the next services and check this out. Myself and me sis hop out of the car into horizontal rain, and I glance under the driver's seat, right at this bird. I look at the bird and go "Uh?", and the bird looks and me and goes "Cheap?", then starts flying around the car like crazy. The other two jump out into the rain and the four of us end up standing outside the car with all the doors open trying to coax a welsh sparrow out into Stoke-on-Trent. 10 minutes later the sparrow hops out and we eventually get into the car whilst being fucking soaking.

Wedding went well :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 11:00, Reply)

A star on Virgin
Travelling up from Exeter to Bristol on an over-priced crowded train. It was Friday, they'd removed a couple of carriages, standing room only in rush hour and there was a particularly mixed bag of commuters, students, holiday makers and crucially- a load of chaps who'd obviously been working down south for a week and were back off home up north.

These last were happily and raucously starting the weekend early. And for one workman in particular, it clamaxed a bit too soon.

Muffled singing got louder as the toilet door crashed open, and one of the workmen staggered out. Trousers and pants around his ankles, fag in one hand, can of cider in the other, singing lustily. He span round once, 360 degrees, and collapsed comatose in the space created by the speedily retreating suits and students.

He stayed where he was, lying across the train door, for the remainder of the journey. Not the best of journeys for him I'll wager. Pretty good for me though!*

*edit. not because there was a view of a drunken northeners cock. Oh no. Just because it was funny. Though since I met Mr Clapper, the former has been a fairly regular viewing pleasure :)

P.S: Virgin Rail? Corrupt disease-raddled whore Rail more like. A government-capitalist fuck-fest designed to get people out of the trains by making them as awful and expensive as possible (as they can't be arsed to fund them) and out on the roads, where they can be taxed heavily. And contribute to climate change. Rant rant rant.
(clapper, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:59, Reply)

My Dad still won't talk about it...
... when I was a tiny lad in the early 80's my dad worked for the bank of England in London.

He commuted daily on the train and had a circle of travelling friends he chatted with.

One night I was vaguely aware he wasn't home yet when the phone goes. Cue much histeria from my mum.

Turns out it was a fireman who had a "dazed and shaken" man with him at side of the road who they'd just removed from the train crash and he had my dad's wallet so they'd phoned the number found within. He wasn't saying anything so they described him. Turns out it was my Dad.

So somewhat histerical my Mum drives us to the train station to collect the silent waking dead figure that my Dad had become, this is where we learnt of the rather nasty train crash that had occurred in Wembley which my Dad was in and had been knocked unconcious, only to wake up in the street.

Take him home put him to bed etc. He never went back to work, not even to clear his desk. My mum went and collected things and Dad became the manager of a bank a mile away and went to work by bike.

He still won't talk about it but I have learnt one of the horrors was his travelling companion died in the seat next to him by means of near decapitation.

Looking back I can now see evidence its bothered him for years, like taking me on a day trip to London as an early teenager I recall him being really uneasy/nervous about the 30 min journey into Euston.

I'd expect that was probably a pretty bad journey...
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:58, Reply)

Hither and thither
Not me but someone I worked with...

Got rather leathered in Leeds earlyish doors, and got on train back to Huddersfield. Woke up at Manchester aiport, freezing cold, Caught the next train back to Huddersfield. Increasingly tired and emotional, he fell asleep again, despite asking someone to wake him, and woke up in York. Missed the night train back. Had to wait for the first train of the morning, eventually arriving in Huddersfield 12 hours after he set off from Leeds. It should take 30mins!
Sioux..Re Mare de Glace/Face Off. Fully recovered, ta. Ain't bodies brilliant? Rather unsightly for a few weeks - that freshly peeled look ;).
(Countryslicker, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:43, Reply)

Not me but my father
My dad once got stuck in the traffic jam of the century. There was a massive pile-up on the M1 with miles of gridlocked traffic behind it. Nothing had moved for several hours and he was desperate for a piss.

There were several lorries in his lane, and he decided that in the absence of any suitable foliage at the side of the road the most secluded spot in which to empty his bladder would be behind the wheel of one of these lorries.

He got out of the car, stood behind the back wheel of the lorry in front, and began relieving himself. It was at that point that the lorry moved forwards for the first time in four hours, revealing a coach full of small children in the next lane. They were most amused.

And the moral of the story is, always go to the lorry behind.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:36, Reply)

Another bus trip to college
Used to have a rota where my lectures had a lovely 4 hour gap in the middle. So, with bus pass in hand I'd regularly go into the city centre and doss about for a while before heading back in.

This one afternoon, the double-decker gets loaded up pretty much full with students at the deppo, and heads on upto Tycoch ready for this afternoon's lectures. The bus stops by the 1st stop from the deppo, and an elderly lady gets on the bus, sitting on an elevated seat to herself. She looks at us all nervously, then looks forward at where the bus is driving to. I sort of think she looks slightly odd, but drift away from paying any attention.

That was until the next stop.

This elderly gent steps onto the bus; well more struggles on (he was old). He politely shows his pass to the driver while saying "Afternoon sir, thanks very much" and goes to sit down next to the elderly woman. If she did; in the highest pitch possible, she screams "Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!" and slides sideways to block this guy from sitting down next to her.

Cue 30 plus students focusing all attention on this.

This old bloke is obviously caught offguard, and says "Oh, don't be silly love, come on, let me sit down..." and goes to sit where she just slid from.

"Noooooooooooooooo!!!!" say yells, and slides back across.

This goes on for a few attempts, as this old guy and the lady are shuffling back and forth, while she's screaming away. All of us are laughing like fuck on the bus though; this is great.

Eventually the old guy dummies her to one side, then hops into the other seat. She reacts to this by crying her eyes out, while he's trying to comfort her.

Turns out the next stop after the college was the local nut-house (Cefn Coed).

Wasn't the worst journey for me, but you'd swear it was for the granny.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:30, Reply)

GNER and the Daft Woman
Gotta be standing up all the way from Newcastle to London on a GNER train.

Reserved a seat, as you do, managed to get a nice window seat with a table going backwords - perfection, well unless you count the woman and her party sat in my seat! Now, this normaly wouldnt be a problem, just find another seat and tell the guard when he comes past, you did pay after all - guard comes by
"sorry, there isnt anything i can do"
"but i paid for the seat!?!"
"im sorry, she has been seated there since endenbough, i cant move them now"
"how about finding me a seat then?"
"there is none avalable appart from first class sir"
"move me to first class then, if seen it done before" (which is a lie)
"sorry sir" and with that he walked off

thank bob i got a seat on the tube cos my legs felt light jelly after that lol

no appologies for lenght but its nice to get it off my chest :P
(DancingBeaver Whats All This Then?, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:20, Reply)

Tube race horror
A while ago I was on the tube, sitting opposite a huge and quite scary-looking rastafarian. Everyone was just quietly reading their newspapers, when all of a sudden he screamed "did you just call me a fucking n*gger?" at the hapless suit sitting next to me. He stammered "no.. no i didn't, I really didn't..". The whole carriage froze, and the rasta just winked and said "only joking mate". He then laughed all the way to the next stop, where I got off (along with nearly everyone else).
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:15, Reply)

Air fun..
A few years ago, I went to stay in Majorca with a friend's family. It was a great holiday, as the family pretty much left us alone to do what we wanted. Then, we got to the journey home.

We were due to fly out at Midday, so we had to be out of the hotel by about 9am. We got all out stuff packed up, checked out and got to the airport on time.

When we got to the airport, the flight was delayed due to a fault on the plane. Fair enough. So, we waited. Then waited some more. After about an hour, the holiday rep came to find us and said that the flight was delayed 12 hours, so the holiday company had arranged for us to have access to a hotel near any airport. Now, this bit was very well-done. There were about 150 of us in the group, and the hotel managed a full roast dinner for each. No complaints there.

Eventually, we got on the plane. During the in-flight safety demonstration (this was before videos were used), the plane banked sharply, and the stewardess in front of me collapsed in a heap on the lap of the passenger next to her.

Now, the scary part. I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden, the engine noise died and so did the electricity. Here we were, flying at about 500MPH, above the sea, and we had no electrical power.

Luckily, about 30 seconds later (although it seemed a *lot* longer), the engines came back and the lights came on.

Not surprisingly, a lot of the passengers needed a stiff drink after that.

The rest of the journey was pretty uneventful, but it was wierd going through Gatwick and the terminal being empty (this was before they introduced night flights, so the airport actually had to be opened up to allow our flight in).

My most uncomfortable flight? Easy. Virgin Atlantic 747 flying from Las Vegas. Absolutely fuck all legroom, the seat belt sign was on for the first 3 and a half hours of the flight, as we were flying around a massive thunderstorm so the plane was subject to turbulance. The in-flight entertainment wasn't working that well, and the stewardess pretty much ignored a lot of the people in our cabin as she was busy flirting with the guy sitting in my row in the centre seat. Oh, and they had food, as long as you didn't mind chicken.

A friend of mine was in Premium, because he believed he would get better service. Do you know what he got for his extra £200? A glass of champagne and a more friendly stewardess.
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:09, Reply)

Mein Gott...
Just came back from the shops after buying some rather nice German sausages.
I guess that was my wurst journey.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:07, Reply)

and one for me as well.
On our way home from a houseparty I was sitting on the isle seat, near the back in one of London's finest double deckers.

I was facing my girlfriend, talking to her and had my back to the isle.

Then I was at the front of the bus, in middle of the isle and feeling groggy, a big lump on my head and no idea how I ended up there.

The bus had done an emergency stop for some drunken twonk walking across the road and the magical forces of momentum had sent me rolling down the isle in a less than dignified fashion.
(Squash, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:03, Reply)

Butlins
Decided to go to Butlins once, having let Mrs Maneki decide what holiday to go on. A journey of just over 160 miles, theoretically around 2 hours by motorway rocket.

Unfortunately this distance was covered using public transport, and took 9 1/2 hours, a journey featuring a bus, a train, another train, another train, another bus and another bus. As we travelled down, the nearer we got to Butlins the higher the proportion of skin-crawlingly repellant scumfucks on said transport got, as though Butlins radiated a homing signal summoning the dregs of Britain's estate dwelling monstrocities to their scabarous mothership.

The journey was utterly awful, not just because of the continuous indignity of our surroundings, but because through it all we knew that we would be spending the next week living cheek by flacid jowl with these animals, and that at the end of the week, a repeat of this horrific journey would still stand between us and the sanctity of home.

How many holidays must we all go on which make us wish to be at work? The next year I picked the holiday destination. It took only four hours longer to cover the additional 2000 miles to Vegas.

Vegas is better than Butlins.
(ManekiNeko loves horses, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 10:03, Reply)

Crunch!
In a minibus in deepest darkest Cornwall after a very good night out. Several people have been complaining about needing a piss for some time and were ignored by the sobre and understandably annoyed driver.

Poor dear just wanted to get home and go get a pint for himself.

As we stop at a junction, the aforementioned people make a break for it. Driver didn't notice and a loud 'CRUNCH' followed by genuine screams of tormented anguish.

Rear left wheel of the minibus had just munched the laptop that fell out of the door. Poor Joe's disertation was due a couple of weeks later.

Not a good journey for Joe.
(Squash, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 9:59, Reply)

Caught a double-decker bus to college once
Mid jan, black ice everywhere. The bus drives around Swansea picking up students, and I'm upstairs at the front of the bus, looking outside. In fairness, when Swansea is covered in snow it looks lovely; mainly because it hides the dirt.

So we're on the final stretch, having just travelled up the side of Townhill (a dive area), and heading down the other side of it to Tycoch college. At 1 mile an hour. With the handbrake on. At an angle.

Halfway down, the driver announced for us all to jump off the bus. He somehow managed to drift the bus onto a patch of grass on a pavement, causing the bus to gain traction and stop. We all chose this oppertune moment to leggit, and half of us ended up walking/sliding down the hill to college instead. The bus was stuck there for another hour, before it was safe enough to move it.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 9:48, Reply)

Worst journey in the world eh..?
Well, there was this one time i caught the bus and it hit the same car TWICE and knocked its bumper clear off. And then all the little chavette's from the back pretended to be shocked and nicked handsful of cash from the seat as he went outside to check... Everyone ran off the next stop apart from me, leaving me on the bus with this crazy bus driver... Bloody london transport.
( Scrambled Edd www.eddsworld.co.uk, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 8:03, Reply)

I'm always prepared...
I've had many close encounters with bastards on the buses, but I'm always careful to constantly be cleaning my nails with a pocket knife. Some stupid git came up with his friends and asked why I'd carry a useless knife, it's only 10cm long. They didn't notice the 35cm knife hanging off my hip. I take it out and reply, "because it's too hard to pick my nails with this."

I'm not exactly the strongest build and I'm only 10 stone, but when a knife like that comes into view, you are instantly the alpha male. Just make sure no one else sees it that doesn't need to. Fecking cops stop me every 5 minutes when I forget about it.
(not-a-brit Just another reason to bomb Lithuania, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 7:24, Reply)

Aah, my journey to Athens....
I had been drinking very heavily with some vodka soaked Croats and Czechs on a ferry ship between Venice and Patras (Greece) during my journey to my friends wedding in Athens (there will be more stories about this journey....keep looking!)

Anyway, at about 4am we were all well oiled and i decided that i wanted to swim in the ships pool and invited one of my new drinking friends to join me.

Did you know that they empty the pools at night? We didn't. We just ran and jumped in, damn near snapping my arm at the elbow when I hit the bottom...I spent the rest of the ferry journey (48 hours!) being spat and shouted at by the Croats who deemed me personally responsible for their friends injuries! And to top it all, I could barely move for bruises, grazes and lumps!

Arse!
(downhill without brakes . It was the worst day of my life, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 6:45, Reply)

bad journeys eh?
I've had a few.
The most recent one was a 24 hour train journey in a hard seat surrounded by peasants. Turned out to be fr4iendly peasants INSISTENT on sharing their food, fags and beer so that was alright really.

The absolute WORST was in India a few years ago. Only a six hour train ride but i had the mightiest case of the shits i have ever had. This led to me running out of bogroll. Which meant i had to use pages torn out of my book as i was shitting through a hole in the floor of a moving train with a bunch of indian wierdos fucking staring at me. in pain, squatting, pissing out of my arse and stinking to high heaven. it was a good book though, smooth and velvety.
(you FUCKING *BANG* BANG*BANG* AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 4:18, Reply)

short walk home

went to a club with some friends and got off with a v foxy but extremely drunk girl, who I managed to persuade to come home with me.

Whilst walking back to my nearby flat, she complained she couldn't be bothered walking and insisted I carry her. I obliged, but after a few hundred yards got a bit tired and put her back down. She started complaining again, and berserkly tried to leap back up into my arms, at the exact moment I went to get a cigarette out of my pocket. She leapt in the air, then landed on the pavement, on her head, knocking herself unconscious.

Just then a police car screeched to a halt next to me, and a policeman and a policewoman jumped out of the car. The man restrained me, obviously under the impression that I'd just knocked the girl out, while the policewoman tried to revive the unconscious girl whilst giving me very disapproving looks.

They took my name and address ( false ones, naturally - she could've been dead for all I knew ), and managed to wake the girl, who was apparently suffering from some form of concussion.

They then flagged down a passing taxi and put us BOTH in it, instructing the driver to make sure we went to the hospital.

The girl then said she didn't want to go to the hospital "because she worked there", so as soon as the police were out of sight, I gave the taxi driver a tenner to say nothing, let us out and drive off. Which, to his credit, he did.

I still took the girl home, but by now the chances of anything occurring were slim at best and she was clearly not right. I had to sit up most of the night with her to make sure she was okay.

Next morning, however, she was right as rain but refused the offer of a taxi home, ate every last bit of food I had before ringing her boyfriend to come and pick her up.

what was the question again
(jack hammer, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 2:32, Reply)

Liverpool buses...
Just noticed a few posts about the Liverpool buses.

Yep, I've had two good kickings on the 10A late bus from Liverpool... Both times after a good night in the Krazy house.

First time got jumped by five of the sick f*ckers. Got punched and kicked to the floor and both my nose and lip was pretty bust up. Couldn't open my left eye either.

Second time was maybe a month later (probably at exactly the same time as previous and probably as the bus was pulling into the same bus stop, probably by the same bunch of tossers.)

This time, I had the sense to grip the first one who hit me and I just pulled him onto me as I ducked back into my seat. He got punched more than I did... I even managed to hit him a few times. As they all piled off the bus, my last memory of them was seeing the one lad who i gripped, walking off with a bloodied nose. I was fine.

Still, very dangerous place to be. I'd rather go bunjee jumping with barbed wire. Less chance of getting hurt.

* Not all scousers are bastards...
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 2:22, Reply)

passenger seat piss up
I don't drive, so whenever I find myself as a passenger on long car journeys with friends I usually take the opportunity to have a few cans. It never seems like a bad idea at the time, but it always is.

I went on a three hour journey in a car with a couple of friends and decided to spend the whole journey supping as many tins as possible. Seven cans down the line and I felt like I was going to piss myself inside out, but couldn't stop as we were on the motorway with no services approaching.

It didn't help that the driver had noticed the obvious discomfort I was in and accelerated past every service station in fits of laughter. I considered using the empty cans but genuinely thought they wouldn't be enough. Eventually we got stuck in a line of traffic, and unable to hold it in any longer, dived out of the car, down an embankment, and finally let go.

Whilst pissing, I noticed the cars starting to slowly move again so had to leg it across a field parallel to the road, sideways with my back to the road, still pissing, in an attempt to keep within distance of the car I was travelling in. Eventually the torrent ceased, and I quickly buttoned up and legged it back up the bank. In the distance I could just about still make out the small red car I was travelling in, and put on a hellish sprint to catch it.

Which I eventually did, only to find it was the wrong car, and I'd actually overtaken the one I was supposed to be in a few hundred yards back.

I swore never to drink on long journeys again, but then did the same thing again a few months later when visiting friends with my girlfriend.

She insisted on listening to some wishy washy ambient music which featured the sound of running water throughout, in a deliberate attempt to make me piss myself. She also gleefully sped past any nearby services, until eventually she pulled up outside a large office complex and said "it's either here or you hold it in for the next hour".

I jumped out and found a small tree ( about four foot high ) and fired about three gallons of piss at it, in full view of the office windows. I was still going as a man in a security uniform came out of the building and ran towards me shouting. My girlfriend thought it would be hilarious at this point to drive away. We're not seeing each other anymore.
(jack hammer, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 2:03, Reply)

A few...
Recently arrived home after 3 months in India with my wonderful girlfriend Cheryl.

Below is a list of things we encountered.

Things we got attacked by:

A pack of wild street dogs
A monkey (armed with coconut)
Millions of mosquito's
Ants. Ants also stole our food. (think diagonal trail of ants from floor to ceiling. Imagine watching your food travel vertically up a wall into a crack in the ceiling).

Things we survived:
2 minor fires (one in a bamboo beach hut and one in a guesthouse)

1 road crash (Me braking too hard, sending me and Cheryl flying off the bike. Luckily she landed on me and I grinded hip first along twenty feet of rough indian road. Then the bike landed on my feet.)

Several potential crashes (NEVER, EVER TAKE AN INDIAN BUS FROM SHIMLA TO DHARAMASALA! - imagine hurtling around mountain bends at sixty miles an hour with no crash barriers and having no idea if another bus is coming your way!)

Delhi belly. Lost about two and a half stone of body weight through some pretty intense shitting sessions. Only vomited once though!

*The most daunting thing about india was the roads... Especially when you look out of the window and see the remains of other buses and lorries crashed up, abandoned and rusted in the baking heat...

Beautiful place though... great people too!
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 2:03, Reply)

Journey to Leicester
I worked in Leicester for a few months a couple of years back and used to commute back and forth by car every few weeks (i live in Aberdeen) Imagine my horror when on one trip down the wipers of the car decide to stop working. Not a problem unless it's the Lake District .. oh and and what seemed to be the foggiest, stormiest and wettest day of the year . Bit of a nightmare driving on the M6 trying to control the wipers with string from the open side windows in the middle of the lake districk, so picture if you will completing the journey in the pissing rain and fog having to manually control the wipers by pulling strings out of each side window, it was fucking scary, visibility was pretty much nill and the feeling of massive artics overtaking you asn you tried to stay on the road was quite an experience. I was glad to get to Leicester for the first and only time that night. And another thing ... Leicester ... a nasty place i'm going to avoid for the rest of my life.
(Mr Teatime, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 1:09, Reply)

My Christmas Adventure!
Last Christmas, I went skiing with my family in Banff, Canada, where I was fortunate enough to have a REAL GENUINE CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE.

It was Christmas eve, and I was skiing on my own without a pre-planned route. Opting to take a piste marked 'To Base Station,' I found myself on a very long, thin and flat winding path which, as time went by, started to look more and more like an actual road. After 10 minutes of skiing I glided into a car park. Aside from a handful of empty vehicles and a painfully useless map of the Canadian wilderness, there was no sign of the base station I had intended on reaching. The path back up the mountain was extremely long, (not to mention steep), and the only other means of escape was a snow-covered tarmac road, stretching off into the valley's thick forest. So, I took of my skis, and started walking.

It wasn't long before I encountered another human being - an American gentleman, who came skiing down the mountain behind me. After a brief exchange of words we established that we had both made the same mistake, and were equally bemused regarding the route back home. So we walked on.

Roughly ten minutes later, we saw a car at the side of the road up ahead. As we drew nearer, we saw a middle-aged woman and her young daughter, digging snow out from under the wheels. We chatted. She had pulled over to read a map, and had become stuck in the snowdrift. Naturally, I offered to help. After an annoyingly long time of digging, pushing and wheel-spinning, the vehicle was finally freed. She made an offer of a lift to myself and my travelling companion, informing us that the base station was roughly ten minutes' drive down the road in the direction we had been heading. Happy with this news, we politely declined, opting instead to put our skis back on and go cross-country for the remainder of the trip.

What the kind lady had failed to tell us was that the road slowly began to steepen up ahead. Soon we were scrabbling our way up the icy slope with our skis over our shoulders. Ten minutes of this... and then the SCARY bit happened.

We heard a grunt. An animal of some sort, in the woods to the side of the road. My companion nervously informed me that this was, in fact, the sort of territory in which wild bears were quite common. Exhausted and paranoid, we chose to stop; hiding by the snow piles at the side of the road. But then we saw something move in the trees. Something brown. And hairy. We didn't look at each other, nor did either of us make a sound, but the tension was thick in the air.

It happened quickly, but not startlingly; three wild elk strolled quietly out of the forest, crossed the road, and disappeared through the trees on the other side. After a few moments, we stood and continued our journey onward in perfect silence.

Time passed. Lots of it. And then we reached a freeway. The frustration of encountering this obstacle was plenty enough to break the silence, and as we trudged achingly slowly through the brown sludge by the barrier alongside, we exchanged semi-witty comments about the American lady's intructions. But neither of us said a single thing about the elks.

Rougly an hour and a half after taking the wrong turn back up on the piste, the base station was in sight. With a new-found quickness we entered the car park, and approached the main lodge. I turned to bid a final farewell to my companion, but - and this is the bit of the story which I believe makes it a REAL GENUINE CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE - when I turned around...

HE WAS GONE.

This story is 100% of fact. I will happily swear on everyone and everything that I know and love that every single word of this tale is true. And with it's haunting memories still burned into my conscious I fell asleep that night, to awake the next morning on a beautiful, snowy christmas day.



No apologies for length. I am soon to be starting a creative writing course, so this is all good practice for me.
( Walrus Man Think hippy thoughts, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 0:40, Reply)