You know those events in your life that cause pride and shame in equal measure?
This is one of those.

Upon learning that I was being dumped it is safe to say that I was a little emotional. Hearing it on Boxing Day felt like a particularly expertly applied cockpunch in additional to the overall kick to the balls that the end of this relationship felt like.*

On the other hand, as it was Boxing Day it meant that all of my mates were available to go to the pub to commeriserate. Or at least, pretend to whilst getting festively pissed.

So I drove direct from the house that I would very soon have to move out of, to the pub. Had me a couple of small glasses of wine as a warm up and thought "Hmm. Before I get pissed, I really should drive to my parents' place and drop the car off. It's only a couple of miles, and I can walk back here."

Hm? Why yes. Yes, I was a thunderously stupid prick in thinking that.

Into the car I got, off I drove. Less than a mile later, the blue flashing lights appeared in my rear view mirror. I pulled over into a street.

Now I should say, I didn't think I was remotely drunk at this point. So I hopped out of the car beaming with the confidence of the slightly pissed. "Afternoon officers. Documents check is it?" I politely enquired.

"Eh, yeah mate." replied a policeman who, to my eye, looked slightly thrown off balance by this.

"Okay, hang on a sec..."

I rummaged in the glovebox and brought out the necessary documentation. Handed it over. Engaged in pleasant chat as I did so. Was the literal essence of easy charm and casual bonhomie throughout. In no way slurred or stumbled over words. Realised over the course of the minute or so that it took that it was Xmas. And they probably wanted to breathalyse me, not pore over my certificate of insurance.

Bugger.

I took back the various bits of paper. And as I did so I said "Oh, by the way do you want me to do a breathalyser while I'm here?"

This time the other officer replied. "Actually, yeah if you could mate that'd be great. Shouldn't take too long."

I genuinely cannot think of another time that I have ever been so perfectly sanguine in the presence of the law. But I digress.

I blew into the black box and handed it back. We carried on our earlier pleasant chit chat. 30 seconds later, his face fell.

"Oh. Erm...right. Right. You've failed it." I felt the colour drain from my face. Dumped and banned for drink driving. MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS YOU CUNT!

"Okay...will your car be okay here dyou think?"

"I...yeah, I would've thought so." I replied with more than a hint of dejection in my voice.

"Do you live nearby?"

"Yeah I..."

"Jump in; we'll give you a lift home. Leave your car, don't go near it again until tomorrow. Promise?"

There was a pause whilst I took this in. I got in the car. They took me back to the ex's house. She wasn't in (to my knowledge, she still doesn't know this happened). I waved a cheery goodbye to the two policemen (who are my personal heroes by the way), went into the house, called a taxi, and went back to the pub to recount this exact story.

They thought it was shit too.



* - I saw her recently. She's the size of a fucking house. My joyful reaction to this is another source of pride and shame in equal measure.
(Light, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 18:50, 10 replies)

Leaving India via Mumbai airport
I was with the (now) ex, exhausted from a 15 hour bus journey, skint and wondering if we could somehow change our flights - and in all the confusion we'd forgotten about the substantial chunk of cannabis in her coat pocket.

We had a six hour wait for our plane and we were sat in the lobby when I remembered about it. Rather than chucking it away or flushing it down a bog, we decided to take turns skinning up in the airport toilets and sneaking outside for a cheeky one.

This was all fine and dandy, but every time we went outside we had to pass a very armed guard with a machine gun, and we got progressively more paranoid each time as we thought he began noticing our pink eyes and mongy faces.

After our third joint, we panicked and threw it in a bin.

Very silly indeed.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 18:24, Reply)

Altered States
After a work trip to the US, I was unpacking my laptop bag. In an obscure pocket, I discovered a bag containing MASSIVE DRUGS.

From vague memories of where I'd got them, I worked out that the bag had been back and forward to the States with its illicit contents at least three times. Yay, I'm an international drug smuggler.

Thankfully it was LSD, which doesn't smell, even to dogs.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 17:20, 2 replies)

Indirectly I could have been arrested.
Weekend in Paris with some friends, 3 couples.

Enjoying a saunter around the Musee D'orsay, one of my friends says 'Fancy a line of coke?'. Somewhat surprised, I said 'Er, not at the moment. Where the hell did you get that?'

'I brought it with me, there's a gram down my sock'.

'Fuck's sake, you carried coke across an international border? Do you realise how much shit you'd have caused if you had been caught? You twat, get rid of it'.

'Ok, you're right. Sorry'.

Eurostar on the way home, Sunday night. Having a beer and relaxing. My mate wanders up and says 'fancy a line of coke?'

Aaaagh. I physicallly dragged him to the bog and made him flush it.
(username failed moderation, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 17:11, 5 replies)

YOU'RE FUCKING NICKED, SUNSHINE

(LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST! LAST!, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 17:01, Reply)

One night
after a particularly raucous night out in Bristol I caught the last train back to Bath (of 'Give me that phone!' fame). Somehow, I'd managed to wrangle a pint out of that particularly soulless Wetherspoons near Temple Meads and - despite my inebriated state - I hadn't managed to drink or spill the majority of it.

The train pulled into Bath Spa station. It must have been a rugby day, because the station was crawling with police officers. I didn't put the two together of getting drunkenly caught with a pint glass spelling a night in the cells, and swaggered out of the train straight into a policeman.

Somehow my brain, most of which had probably evaporated in Bristol, caught up with me, and I thought I might have been in for it.

"Is that your glass?" asked the neon yellow authoritarian gent.

"No," I said. "But the beer in it belongs to me."

The policeman chuckled. "Well, go and finish it off in the toilets, then give the glass to me and I'll make sure it gets returned to its rightful owner."

I dutifully did as I was told and then handed the policeman the glass.
( krang, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 15:51, 3 replies)

Aged 5
My brother and I were left temporarily unattended in a Woolworths. Near the pick n' mix.

We dared each other to eat one each, and did. And we got away with it! And then we noticed that there was a security guard near the doors.

We panicked. We were going to be caught. A few months previously we'd stolen eaten some pills from mummy, and she wanted them back so badly she'd made us drink salt water to throw them up! Surely the guard would be much worse!

We were so scared and guilty that we thought we'd own up. Everyone knows if you just admit it, it'll go better for you. So when mummy got back to the front of the store she found two little children crying their eyes out in horror at the single piece of pick'n mix they'd eaten.

So she took us to the back of the store, asked to see the manager, and made us apologise. We were each docked 5p of our 20p pocket money for our crime, and awash with tears we were taken home and made to go to bed early.

Still, a lucky escape I feel.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 15:45, 5 replies)

Unlucky
A lot of you thought I should have been arrested for this b3ta.com/questions/bodger/post1122441

Some of you tried to get me arrested for this b3ta.com/questions/anon/post614634

And I was actually arrested for this b3ta.com/questions/massivedrugs/post871413

But it’s another incident that springs to mind, one which luckily avoided the long arm of the law and probably spared me an early criminal record.

As a fourteen year old in the early nineties I had expensive habits – computer games, bike accessories, new trainers, the latest albums and hair gel – but apart from a fiver a week pocket money and a couple of quid for cleaning the car on a Sunday, I had no disposable income.

Being a fairly dishonest chap, the scams came thick and fast. An early money-spinner was the ‘endless return’. I’d take the train to the huge Tower Records in Piccadilly, subtlety browse the CD and video racks, select a title, pop it in a previously procured Tower Records bag and head to the checkout. There I’d tell my story about receiving this album / film for my birthday from my aunt – but also having received the very same one from my Mum. I’d present the sealed, stamped product from the bag, stating that I, ‘didn’t even open it’ – and ask for a refund. The bored teenager behind the counter would never even look up whilst he processed my cash.

This worked for a while, until I was spotted. I’ve never run so fast.

I was back to square one. But I needed things. There were girls to impress and I’d run out of gel. A new money-spinner was required. As luck would have it our school was building a new sports hall, it was a big event, there were fund-raisers, dinners, dances and local businesses were being pushed to sponsor the place. We’d all been asked to hassle parents, family and friends to contribute to the sports hall fund. So I decided to help as much as I could.

Some preparations were needed. Off to WHSmith to buy a book of raffle tickets (the type with two sets of corresponding numbers), then off to my parent’s drinks cabinet and my father’s cellar to procure some fine, unopened bottles of Scotch and a few sumptuous reds from his collection. A little capital was invested in a lovely boxed radio cassette player and then it was off to Thomas Cook for some glossy Caribbean holiday brochures.

When the above was all complete, I took my mother’s finest tray and made a sturdy loop with a belt, carefully arranged all the items on the tray and attached random raffle tickets to them. I then grabbed my little brother, got us both into our school uniforms, put the tray round my neck and hit the streets of our well-to-do, commuter-belt town.

The plan was simple - £1 for one ticket, £5 for ten. I’d diligently removed the ‘winning’ tickets from the raffle book and placed the remaining in a huge cloth bag. The pitch was even simpler – ‘Hi we’re from ******* School and we’re raising money for the new sports hall. You could win anything on this tray, from a bottle of wine to a holiday for two!’ They lapped it up.

The first house bought £10 worth. We allowed them to fumble in the bag and pull out twenty tickets – but unluckily for them, none of them was a winning number. By the end of the first day we had over £200 – more money than we’d seen in our lives. By the end of the 5th day we were sitting in a stranger’s living room whilst the owner of the house was on the phone to the filth.

Like the goons in Goodfellas I’d been stupid. I’d the splashed the cash. Fellow students wondered about my new shoes and endless supply of SNES games. Word had gone round the school. I was flashing bundles of £20 notes during break time. It was fate that fucked us over eventually, the last house we visited was of someone in my year – and the cunt told his daddy that we were being less than economical with the truth.

Cue stifling meeting with parents, headman and local police sergeant. My bro got away with it (I only paid him £2 a day in any case) and I was hung out to dry - but not arrested. Grounded, suspended, vilified but not arrested, for a scam that netted me a shade over £1k in under a week.

And the worst thing? They made me give every penny back and donate it to the cunting sports hall fund. A building that I never had cause to set foot in during the remainder of my school days.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 15:30, 23 replies)

Cock
I once accidently shot and killed one of my neighbour’s chickens whilst standing outside my house, practicing my archery skills.

I should of been fined 5 Septims but the copper let me off because I’m the Thane of Whiterun.

AND joke on joke, it turn's out the guard used to be an adventurer!

Lollerskates.
( Dervel OTBC, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 15:17, 5 replies)

The other night I looked after a guy, who, at one point had a blood pressure of 65/32, heart rate of 135 and blood serum potassium level of 7.1. count
We managed to make him better and didn't need to page 2222 at all.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 15:02, 3 replies)

Sound of the Poliiice....
Had some angry undercover cops burst into my smoky uni room once. I told em to fuck off, which didn't help. They thought I'd spat out of my window. I pointed out the room was totally fugged up / un-aired. They sniffed dramatically (there was lit spliff in bin, various wares kicked under chair etc), told me to get rid of a bong, and buggered off.

Turns out my neighbour's mate had been making pig noises out of his window, which involved a bit of spitting too. The undercovers were perambulating below and kinda took offence. (Luckily our head of college had just been deposed for fraud, so I didn't get kicked out as I theoretically shoulda. The other guy had to replicate the pig noises tho ;))

Apologies for middle-class cockage ;)
(Golgot100 is actually a number, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:59, 1 reply)

I got away with smuggling explosives across international borders.
So as not to arouse suspicion we'd not told the driver anything about his illicit cargo so at customs he wouldn't act like there was anything amiss.

Passports were checked at both ferry terminals and my accomplice and I sat stony faced sweating nervously as we prayed our cache, taped around our waists, wasn't detected.

It wasn't

It was the perfect smuggling crime and those Chinese bangers we'd bought in France sold for LOADS when we got back to school.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:52, 1 reply)

Nazi Bastard
After a friday night underage drinking down by the beach an officer of the law was called for trouble inside the arcades. We were all marched outside and formed into a large semicircle.

Said officer then started to berate us, pointing his skinny finger and asking who had been the one to start throwing pool balls. The actual culprits had long scarpered so we were slightly miffed at his sarky tone and accusations, not to mention the spoiler he was putting on our fun.

When his back was half turned I boldly chirped up with a "Nazi bastard", to which he spun and started screaming "WHO JUST SAID THAT..." he decided to take a disliking to my mates face and started bellowing, jabbing him in the chest with his digit.

Me; being the honest, stand up mate that I am, kept completely schtum as he was still giving it "I BET IT WAS YOU, YOU'VE JUST GOT THAT KIND OF FACE!"

We laughed afterwards and still now I like to give the reason for random things as, 'you've just got that kind of face'. To which my wife hates :-)
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:44, Reply)

Something something Portugal something something.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:36, 5 replies)

I went to prison once
For a whole month.

All because I'm an engineer and work had a contract with the Guv'nor.

Someone threw a sock full of poo out of a window at me.

So I had a wank in it and threw it back. That showed him!
( Dervel OTBC, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:34, 3 replies)

Many many years ago I span my first car into a drystone wall.
I left it there and ran home to tell my dad as I needed to get to an exam at college.

He sprang out of bed, got hastily dressed and drove me to retrieve it in a battered old Mini he'd taken in exchange for some work he'd done on a mates car.

He drove my poor car back home on 3 wheels and hid its corpse under a tarpaulin in our garden as he explained I could have been done for dangerous driving, damage to farm property and could have lost my license as I was a new driver. I took the mini to college.

My beautiful mustard colour Mark 1 Escort* was a write-off but as a bonus he let me keep the Mini. It was a shed but it worked.




* Or Honda Accord if you prefer.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:33, Reply)

Bus stopped
One time my mate was staying for a few days with another fella who wouldnt come out for a friday night with us ruffians. On return four sheets to the wind someone had the genius idea to nick, dismantle and move a bus stop and rebuild it in his spare room. I dont think grand theft on this scale is a legal grey area.
(liquidspanner, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:22, 2 replies)

So there I was, 16 and experimenting with MASSIVE DRUGS
We'd gone up to the old church grounds to smoke some weed. A friend of mine was supplying the greens and he'd recently had his collar felt so he was understandably nervous because if he got caught again he was in serious trouble. He asked who was going to skin up and I said I'd do it, but another guy who was there said he was better. Well, that was a challenge and no mistake because no-one skins up better that I do, so our man proposed that we both roll up some tobacco so he could judge who would be the best suited to handle his precious ganj.

And so it was I happened to be sitting on a park bench surrounded by a likely-looking group of chaps, about to put the finishing touches to a king-size, cone-shaped rollie, when a pair of coppers walked around the corner. Realising my man was shitting bricks because of his record, I decided to take the rap as I had nothing on me except what was quite obviously a spliff, but which contained no illicit substances whatsoever. So I licked the sticky bit, rolled it over, held it up and said: "Evening, officers."

They nodded, said "Evening, lads," and carried on their way.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:22, Reply)

I once 'worked' as a bird scarer on a vinyard in New Zealand- riding around on a Quadbike shooting at things/being loud
And due to an alcohol related mix up one weekend the 'make a big noise' blanks and the 'will actually kill' shells were mixed up.

I should have been arrested for attempted murder as I ended up shooting at the vinyard owner's brother as he kayaked down the river do meet us

Thankfully he was miles away and I couldn't hit the side of a barn sober, let alone pissed.

It's the quickest I've ever sobered up though, when I realised I could have killed a man, all the while laughing.
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:12, 2 replies)

I remember catching my sister recording another tape using the tape-to-tape mechanism on her new stereo
I was very impressed with her laissez-faire attitude to the fact that such was piracy, and killing music.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:07, 7 replies)

I drove a Honda Accord without tax, insurance or MOT.
Over some fucker's head, and got away with it.
Bullying lols.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:07, Reply)

that bloke who decapitated that bloke and famrs heroin with his son
that bloke should be arrested
(Quintno EXPERIMENT RUINED CANCELLED, LEFT 4EVER, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 14:02, Reply)

omg i had loads of drugs and guns and hookerz it was well boss innit lol

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 13:47, 6 replies)

I should have been arrested.
For being so damn sexy.
( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 13:46, 2 replies)

Second!
I've mentioned on here before that I'm an urban explorer. In other words, a recreational trespasser. It's given me some incredibly useful skills as a cop-whisperer. I've been caught many many times, but haven't been arrested since I was 18 (around 1998).

It helps that I'm white. It additionally helps that I live in Korea and I (look like I) don't speak a word of Korean. In truth I get by, but sometimes it works out best not being able to speak the native language.

I'll arrange a few close-call stories in increasing order of seriousness.

1) I was in a large abandoned neighbourhood. Huge tracts of land in Seoul get evicted all at one time, and often spend a couple years wasting away while all the court cases get settled. In a few years, the smaller buildings are all demolished and replaced with very ugly highrises.

In the interim, the buildings are just blanketed off, covered up with these ugly green-and-pink-striped blankets intended not to prevent entry, just protect straying eyes from seeing ugly abandoned buildings. In fact, it's especially easy to get around in blanketed-off areas because you're more well hidden from passersby.

On the other side of some blankets once, we saw a dog in the distance, and the dog saw us. A tiny lapdog, as all dogs that are not meat are in Korea. We kept our distance, but it was barking. Not too long after, we ran into the owner, an old man who refused to leave his home. He was living alone with two dogs in the middle of this abandoned neighbourhood, and rather than do anything about us being there, he asked me to take pictures of his dogs.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=265911
The neighbourhood's gone now, and I wonder where he is. Probably living outside the city somewhere.

2) Inside an abandoned office building, we hear a huge racket somewhere above. Followed by below. Eventually, we discover the source: a scrapper is taking whatever has any kind of value and chucking it out the window to collect it below later. Looking back, he probably had every bit as much right to be there as me.

He sees my camera, and asks my ex-wife what we're doing there. She explains the basics of what we're doing. He replies, "I'm so embarrassed on behalf of my company that this foreigner is seeing these abandoned buildings, which will lead him to think Korea is a third-world nation" though in not so many words. He continues on with his work, as do we.

Somewhere in this vicinity:
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=254097

3) A lot of evictees in abandoned neighbourhoods don't want to leave, so the construction companies hire companies that provide something in between a security guard and hired muscle. They have a set of tactics to hasten the evictions, such as dumping garbage in doorways, graffiti, roughing people up, installing large metal shutters in doorways, arson, defecation, knocking out walls with a sledgehammer, and so on. Some are relatively professional; others are hobos with a jacket and a day's training and a chip on their shoulders.

I got caught by one of them in the middle of an abandoned neighbourhood, not a soul around for at least 100 meters (that's pretty far in a metropolis of 10 million packed into an area a little over 1/3 the surface area of London). Basically, if I screamed nobody would hear me. The conversation went thusly (translated into English as all of this was conducted in Korean):

Goon: What are you doing here?
Me: I'm sorry, I can't speak Korean.
Goon: There are only binjib (empty houses) here. You shouldn't be here. It's a safety hazard.
Me: I don't understand any of what you just said (but you just taught me some very useful words).
Goon: Are you taking pictures?
Me: I'm going now, bye.

A clean escape, and I went back into another part of the neighbourhood for more.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=328728

4) One of Seoul's many landmarks, the old Byzantine-style Seoul Station sits in the shadow of the newer, bigger, glassier Seoul Station. That is, until I find a ridiculous exploit in the temporary fencing. Right around the corner from a police station.

I slipped in one night and managed to get some pictures of the amazing architecture.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=335774
In back I found a stairway to nowhere, probably once used to go out to the train platform. I was there taking long exposure shots with my tripod (ie www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=335778 ). To get up the stairs, I had to step over a meter-high temporary fence.

On the way out, camera still mounted in the tripod, I used the tripod to vault over. I landed in the hallway which was pitch black but with light sources at either end, and I saw the silhouette of a security guard about five meters away. Too late to jump back over, so I just crouched and pretended to be taking a picture, looking as nonthreatening as possible. As the guard got closer, his flashlight turned on and it swung around to me. For this conversation I used a bit more Korean because the circumstances were different (he was just a real guard doing his job). Also, ever since one of Seoul's other major historic landmarks was burned down (http://blog.joinsmsn.com/usr/b/s/bsjh2/8/%EB%B6%88%ED%83%80%EB%8A%94%20%EC%88%AD%EB%A1%80%EB%AC%B8-4%281%29.jpg) I've been paranoid of being caught in any kind of historic property, lest I end up public enemy number one along with the arsonist who set that fire.

I explained I was a friend, without really being able to elaborate, and he showed me to the front gate and let me out without any sort of follow-up.

5) I really wanted to get into an abandoned church, and as the demolition crews were starting I knew I had to hurry.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=326883
I was suffering from insomnia, so I slipped in one summer morning after dawn before any workers were around. I went in, looked at the wreckage, saw a few workers coming in, and headed out. Security caught me at the front entrance and made it clear I wasn't allowed up here, even though there was still an active church building. They asked for my name and phone number, so of course I gave them an alias and a number that was a couple digits off from my real number. No clue why they were so concerned; probably something to do with demolishing a historic building.

6) I had just moved to a new neighbourhood, and I was out taking pictures of the area to show my parents. I pulled into a parking lot for a second, and suddenly realised I was facing an abandoned building. It was on the edge of a university campus. And there were more abandoned buildings there. It was an entire abandoned university, right in the middle of the city.

This was basically what I saw.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=246121
There was a guard box just on the other side of the white mesh gate. I walked in, saw that the security guard happened to not look up, and strolled past. I wandered around a bit, careful to avoid security guards. Then it came to getting out. I couldn't easily go back the way I came.

While walking around one corner, I came face-to-face with a security guard. Well, he was about ten meters off. And he was sort of looking down, at what he was holding in his hands: his own wang which was hosing the ground with urine.

I quietly backed off and he either didn't see me or decided it wasn't the best time to start a chase. I later found a mountain pass that safely took me back to civilisation, and I ended up having many, many return visits.

7) The first time I ever went exploring, a friend brought me to a long row of abandoned apartment buildings. They were about seven storeys high, and the main floors were active while the upper floors were burned out.
www.uer.ca/locations/viewgal.asp?picid=236298
We went up and marvelled at the fire damage. On the way down, we spotted a sign we'd passed on the way in. Neither of us knew much Korean, but there was one English word: CCTV. Not knowing who could be watching, we hurried out a different way from where we'd come in.

Walking down the alley, a cop car pulled in behind us. My friend was getting ready to run, but I convinced him to play it cool. The cop car pulled up right behind us, and blared its siren. We casually stepped to the side, allowing it room to pass.

The cop driving saw we were foreigners, and laughed and shook his head, driving on. He probably figured it wasn't worth the trouble, and we were probably just clueless foreigners looking for the washroom.

8) Every September, Koreans celebrate an autumn harvest holiday called Chuseok. It basically involves going back to your hometown for a family feast and ancestral rites. Basically, 30 million Koreans hit the road on the same day (out of 50 million or so) to travel, and most of them are headed away from Seoul. The capital city becomes a virtual ghost town, and it's the perfect time for a bit of 'sploring. I organised a meetup on this weekend, which gathered people from the UK, Canada, the US, Hong Kong, Australia, France, and I think Germany (but they chickened out when they saw the ladder we'd have to climb). The event involved nearly every type of urban exploration: abandonments, whorehouses, rooftopping, active infiltration, draining, and craning.

The meet started on a 20th storey rooftop overlooking one of the busiest intersections of the country. We brought beer and snacks.
www.daehanmindecline.com/2011/20110910rooftopping/84.jpg
Next morning, we went draining under downtown. After that, on the way to meet more people, I remarked "Hey, not only is it Chuseok, but it's also 9/11!" and we made a few "Happy 9/11" jokes.

Next stop was an abandoned university hospital, right across the street from one of Seoul's main train stations. We hopped the fence, found an unlocked window, and slipped in. We were in there for maybe an hour, found the morgue, and climbed up to find a way onto the rooftop. The Australian of our group looked out the window and saw something unusual: a phone booth. We slowly realised that we were overlooking an American army base.

Shortly after, we were accosted by a very angry security guard carrying non-lethal weaponry. He lined us up outside and called the police. Yeah, turns out the US base was on high alert for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. The property owner came, and she looked like she only cared about getting back to her family. We sat around there for an hour as they mused our story of being "artists." The one female of the group was asked how much money she had on her; it was assumed she had taken us three johns there to earn a bit of money. Finally they asked for our ID cards, took down our information, and let us go on our way.

I made the mistake of suggesting we bow in apology to the property owner, and in the time it took us to do that they decided to detain us another ten minutes. Should've just left, no apologies.

No pictures of this place because I promised to delete all the pictures (I did, and undeleted them later, but never uploaded them).

Anyway, this post is probably getting long enough that it should be a crime.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Thu 26 Jan 2012, 13:45, 8 replies)

First?
Story to follow - honest

**Edit**

It's 1997 - Summer
Myself, my mate and our girlfriends were preparing to go to the Hippo Club in Cardiff. We'd already taken 1 gram of speed each and still had about 6 grams left on us. My mate (who was driving) lifted up the back seat of his car and hid them there. We then parked opposite the club and got out of the car. Suddenly two plain-clothes officers appeared and told us they were doing a random search, but that the girls could leave. So my mate and I emptied our pockets safe in the knowledge we were holding nothing, but also shitting ourselves should they check the back seat.
They then began searching the car. They checked everywhere. When they got to the back seats they picked up some coats that were there. I glanced at my mate who just turned white. Surely they were going lift the seat and check! My heart was beating like a fucked clock, my thumbs had gone weird; the lot.

"Ok lads, you can go. We've had reports of drugs being dealt in that club so be safe."

They put the coats back, wished us well and fucked off.

I have never sobered up so quickly in my life, the speed buzz was gone, replaced by my asshole quivering like a rabbit's nostril. It ruined the night for me. But at least we weren't arrested.

There are of course many other episodes but this one has always stuck in my mind.
(Erasmusmicroman is inside your T.V., Thu 26 Jan 2012, 13:41, 3 replies)