Chester ring road
I once went for a few tipples of an evening in Chester (for that was where I lived) and ended up catching the last Madras of the evening at the most enjoyable source of food poisoning in town, The Bombay Palace (who once gave me a lift to Manchester Aiport at 4 in the morning). Anyway as I left I thought its only 2 miles home, I'll walk it, so I did...well at least the first 100 yards across the Fountains Roundabout), after that it all goes a little hazy. I remember being rudely awoken to the sound of busy traffic the follwing Sunday. That's right I had elected to sleep on a roundabout...on the main Chester Ring road...under a bush! One worrying detail was I had emptied my pockets and put everything in little piles on the end of the fountains!

The next week I made it 200 yards down the road from the Bombay and slept under someone's 20 foot conifer in their front garden! I decided cabs were not that expensive after that.
(Neostenine's maker, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 12:44, Reply)

Does it count as sleeping pr passing out - you decide.
I was in Mauritius one Christmas and my uncle took me to the airport for my return flight - the VIP lounge no less.

Where he proceeded to get me hammered.

I woke up on a plane. No idea which one or where I was going - Long story short, I was on the right one, but the panic was funny for the other passengers I can tell you!

I'd've put me on a plane to anywhere else - My uncle could have, he works at the airport....

Length? Yep, it still is I tells ya.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 12:16, Reply)

...
I once slept in Portsmouth
(yiddo, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 12:15, Reply)

Not strange.....
Well, yes and no, I had a sleeping habit that bordered on Narcolepsy. I could sit down, relax and BAM - out for the count. I'm over that now, but every now and then I'll fall asleep at will.

I can sleep standing up, face down on a cold tiled floor, face down on a keyboard....

I work away a lot at the moment so I fly every week, I'm almost always asleep the moment I settle down in my seat on the plane - and I fly 29 seater turboprops which have little seats which kill your back...

Length? Well, yes, it is.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 12:14, Reply)

Not that strange I suppose
Malmo Airport in Sweden.

Had finished a week long drug-fuelled stint at Roskilde festival in Denmark. Decided we couldn't take another day of camping so went to the airport to wait for our flight...

26 hours later...

The armed guards didn't take kindly to 8 stinking festival goers cluttering up their airport, so we gradually shuffled around various locations in the airport.

The discovery of the shower room there was a great boon.

The sleeping part consisted of us all trying to make ourselves comfortable stuffed into corners of the airport in our sleeping bags with our bags practically tied to us. great fun....

my horrible hacky-sack injury didn't mix too well with the aftereffects of taking mushrooms 4 days in a row....
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 11:59, Reply)

Multiple locations in one night.
I had, needless to say, been boozing again on the Costa del Birmingham. After getting off the fight bus at the stop nearest my house, I began the epic journey around three streets back to my house.

I still to this day do not understand how this is possible, but one street into my journey I managed to fall asleep standing up. In the middle of the road. How do I know this? Because I was woken up by a loud horn and some very bright lights.

After this monumental shock, I continued on the way home (may I also add I lost one shoe at some point between street 1 and 3; not shoes - shoe). Upon arriving home, I discovered that I didn't own my key and my parents wouldn't answer the door. It was bloody freezing, so rather than die, I grabbed a rolled up carpet we'd left outside to throw away and slept in that. Cue mother's surprise at 9am the next morning to find her son, asleep, on her doorstep, wrapped up in a carpet.

It's the stella that does it to you.

Edit: oh, and on a different occasion, as I've just been reminded, i've slept on a neighbours doorstep, the sofa, the toilet, and then the sofa again. All in the space of around 7 hours. Good oh me!
( Kavanagh thinks that -6C is warm, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 11:52, Reply)

Not me but my friends...
One was at a summer party a couple of years ago. Having found that she had no cash on her for a cab, she elected to stay in her flatemate's bedroom.
Which, incidentally was nicknamed the 'shag room' in that house.

Turns out that after 'Mad', as I shall refer to her as, had drowsed off into that half-asleep brain death experienced when drunk and stuffed on noodles, her best mate and her boytoy strutted right in, stepped over her and commenced making the beast with two backs. Noisily.

Apparently she very nearly chucked up right on them - as they came to climax. Eek.

A more worrying tale is about another friend who being a wee nipper somehow ended up snoring on...his roof. Nice warm tarry shingles eh?

He claims he must have sleptwalked it. I suspect sadistic elder brother intervention...
(FightingComet got Boost Power on, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 11:46, Reply)

After leaving a house party to walk a girl home and failing to make it into her bed I walked back to discover all the lights out so slept under a car on the neighbours drive. Fortunately the owner noticed me before driving off to work later that morning...
(Mr. Partyhat, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 10:19, Reply)

On the M1 motorway....
... man that was close to being a pile up!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 10:19, Reply)

Party sleep
I was quite proud to be able to sleep after this:
www.b3ta.com/questions/teenageparties/post52474/

One of the partygoers was a prankster par excellence, Clem (for that was his name) was six foot six and looked like Kurgan from Highlander and was probably as mad. Previous parties had seen me being woken up with a knee in the pods and a bucket of water in the face by this jolly chappie, so I was anxious to find somewhere to crash safe from Clem (who was also responsible for soaking the white t-shirt clad lady partygoer and breaking a bed mid-coitus.

I was huddling down for a night on the landing when the door opened from the lounge and I heard a hushed whisper of "PJM!". I looked round to see the hostess clad in a duvet suggesting I kip on the lounge floor. However she wasn't alone...

I weighed up my options - either get my eyebrows shaved or spend the night in a room with four other people all bonking like rabbits. I figured I could put a pillow over my ears and blot out the worst of the noise, so I grabbed my sleeping bag and stuff and shuffled into the lounge.

Pass me the mind-bleach...

Trudy and her partner were doing what sounded like gymnastics on an arthritic sofa bed with rusty springs. The noise was something akin to an asthmatic marathon runner trying to heave a rusty gate open repeatedly. Worse still, just a yard away from the end of my feet was a couple who hadn't even interrupted their rhythmn when they greeted me with a worryingly enthusiastic "Hi PJM!".

The next hour was utterly surreal. Basically if you assemble the following noises at random and repeat over and over you get the gist:

shuffle squelch groan creak

Even more worryingly, one of the bonking party engaged me in casual conversation. Sheesh.

Finally, I heard a new and unfamiliar shuffle followed by a pained voice saying "fucking hell, smells like a French brothel at half tide in here". And the voice was indeed correct (I assume as such, having never frequented a brothel in France). Turns out I wasn't the only solo in the room and that this chap had actually managed to sleep through the worst of it. What I'd have given to have traded places... Oh, the humanity!
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 3 Jan 2007, 10:18, Reply)

Blackpool bus/coach station
in winter. Horrible place, all the B&B's seemed to be full and the locals are idiots. Avoid if possible.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 10:10, Reply)

inflateable
(to the tune of My Darling Clementine)
In a wet suit
In the desert
Excavating for a mine...
(MrCanoehead Marzipaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 9:34, Reply)

petrol station roof (in the rain)
after a heavy night out i once woke up on a petrol station roof. absoluty soggy because of the rain i climbed down to see onluckers in the morning confused as to why some filthy bloke was up there.

getting home to a shower and bed felt so good that day.
(sweatytramp, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 9:23, Reply)

Slept down a mate's house in Llanelli once after a good pissup
Nothing very strange about that? Well, about 8 o'clock the next morning his dad (who had given us a lift back there the prev night) was sitting in the living room watching telly when I woke up. I stumbled into the room and fell asleep on one of the chairs opposite him (as I was still hammered), where he didn't notice me sleeping at all. Instead, he started to rattle on about the wonders of "Blake 7".

Me mate wonders in for some brekkie to see me in a coma while his dad is talking to me about how they don't make sci-fi like they used to. Casts an odd image does that.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 9:22, Reply)

Bloody students...
Back in my student days I had to walk up a large hill to get to my halls of residence from town. 4am, drunk and tired from my trek I decided it was best to climb into a yellow grit/salt bin at the side of the road for a quick nap. Woke up feeling slightly sore 5 hours later, not sure how I managed to fit inside being 6ft4 but I slept well that night.
(elvinio, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 8:50, Reply)

also... (a prev "regret" QOTW answer)
I slept on a lezzer's floor while she got it on with her rug-munch-buddy.

Well, I say slept...
www.b3ta.com/questions/regrets/post62930/
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 8:37, Reply)

hehe, forgot this one
Went to Ibiza during a local heatwave in June '03 (or '04, can't remember exactly). Had a hotel right in the middle of San Antonio, right beside the beach (literally 4 yards from the back of the hotel), plus all the opening parties we could ask for.

Because it was the end of June though, the temperatures soared and hit 40 degrees C plus at midnight, let alone the next day in the sun. Me being slightly overweight and having my own lagging system built in was not good, and halfway through the hols led me to stroll into the kitchen one afternoon while apparently speaking garbled bollocks to the lads and falling about dizzily.

They acted quickly, and emptied the small box fridge in the appartment (well I say emptied, they removed one shelf and a cabbage). They stuffed me into the fridge and closed the door.

An hour later I wake up with me knees under my chin stuffed into a box, wondering where the fuck I am but at the same time feeling completely refreshed. I push open the door, climb out and say "Errr alright lads?" to the guys and walk into my room completely unaware of what I was sleeping in.

I lost a stone 'n' half in 11 days through sheer sweat; fuck weight watchers. That is the easiest way to diet by far.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 8:21, Reply)

sleepy sleep sleep.
i spent a while hitching about when i was in my early twenties and wound up sleeping in a spanish monastery somewhere up in a mountain for about a week once. the monks were sometimes there and sometimes gone away monking, and they didn't seem to mind if i stayed or left. they had a great garden. that was a long time ago, but i recall some of the fixtures and scenery that surrounded me very well.

some time later i wound up in the greek islands and rented a hut on the beach for a while. it had a roof, bed and walls made of woven grass, and a window that was just a hole. it cost almost nothing, and the guy who owned the huts (a few others were also occupied) loaned me his tiny little micromotorcycle to ride to town on, since there was nothing to eat or drink there except for fish and an unbelievably vile winelike fluid that probably made him blind.

later again i wound up in albania and stayed on a farm with a family with whom i had no common language. i was in a bed for a night but moved into the barn because it was more private and actually more comfortable for me. days later in tirana i stayed in a luxury hotel because albania was so poor that pretty much any outsider could afford the very best there.
( postbear has metal knees, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 6:09, Reply)

During Uni
First semester.

Took an Astronomy class.

The prof had the most monotone, lulling voice in the world.

The class was held in a huge, lovely auditorium.

He'd turn the lights out and put up gorgeous pictures of the night sky.

*snore*

Didn't manage to stay awake for even ONE lecture the entire semester.
(herbivorous, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 5:23, Reply)

I wasn't sleeping in a strange place

it was my bed at home in fact - but I did dream that I was trying to meet people through dating websites, and hiding the fact that I was John Pilger.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 5:00, Reply)

I slept in a bedroom - with a twist...
...many moons ago, when hangovers were a slight inconvenience rather than 24 hours of purgatory, I would, from time to time, take a drink.

On one such disgraceful debautch, I'd arranged with my drinking partner, who lived close-in to town, that I should use his couch rather than face a several-miles walk back to my own luxurious quarters. We were but poor students you see and cabs were not for the likes of us.

Apparently the drinking went very well indeed and I awoke in the morning tired, with a headach and upset stomach - mission accomplished.

I blearily regarded my surroundings, which were quite obviously an absolutely reeking student's bedroom, but not one I recognised. I took a quick gander out of the window and saw the patio outside my mate's flat.

Unfortunately my mate lived in the ground floor flat and I was peering out of a first floor window. Worse yet, there were voices on the landing outside and the sounds of people shuffling about betwixt bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom. The same people had been dismissed by my mate just the previous week as "arsey bastards". Discovery and capture seemed imminent!

I took the only escape, which was to Errol-Flynn it out of the place by opening the sash window, hanging by my fingertips to shorten the fall, then dropping to the ground below. My friend was rather surprised to be awoken by my furtive tapping at his window, but good soul that he was, he let me in and got some good strong coffee on the go.

During the post-mortem, we established that I'd got tired and emotional at an early stage and wandered off home without first snagging the key to the flat off my friend. Examination of the kitchen roof tiles - for 'twas a single story add-on to side of the building - led us to believe that on finding myself barred from my allotted resting place, my indomitable bulldog spirit hadn't succumbed. Not a bit of it! I'd just climbed on a bin, onto the kitchen roof and sneaked into the upstairs flat through an open window.

Fortunately, the guardian angel which watches over wandering piss-artistes was on overtime that weekend and:

a) There was no-one in the flat to witness and / or repel me while I impersonated Raffles after a night on the pop.

and b) I picked a bedroom wherein the resident spod had got lucky that night or, more likely, had returned home to mummy for the weekend to get the washing done and pick up the week's allocation of day-of-the-week labelled frozen dinners.

All's well that ends well and I wish i could say I learned from the experience but seeing as I subsequntly "borrowed" bedrooms in a nurse's home and then in an ancient Oxford college (high ceilings and oak wainscot - mmm!), I must have been asleep at the back of the class.
(apologies_for_length, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 2:45, Reply)

On top of my girlfriend
she was none too pleased & wasn't my girlfriend for much longer
( chunderbunny lacking humus since, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 1:51, Reply)

Being a narcoleptic, I can sleep almost anywhere.
Among the more notable:

- The front lawn of a hospital, where I was woken by a stranger who thought I might need medical attention.

- The toilet at work.

- The baby nursing room in a shopping mall, where I slept for 45 minutes while women and children streamed in and out.

- While driving, rear-ending a car after I had driven only two blocks. (I no longer drive when I feel sleepy.)

- Alone at the side of the road in St. John's Newfoundland. I was on foot and just curled up in the grass and passed out for an hour.

- In my car after being pulled over for speeding. I reclined and napped for a few minutes while the cop sat in his car with my license. He let me off with a warning.

- On a park bench at the Canadian National Exhibition.

- On the ferris wheel at the Canadian National Exhibition.

- In fitting rooms at retail clothing stores.

- In a lawn chair in a camping store in Manchester. The staff woke me up and I convinced them to let me continue sleeping until my friends arrived.

- In a massaging chair in the As Seen On TV store, for 90 minutes.
(ghettobooty, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 1:46, Reply)

Fireplace.
Steve's house, September 1st 2001.

I don't remember much more.
( NinjaBadger hides in the bushes and gives you TB., Wed 3 Jan 2007, 1:29, Reply)

Weeeeell...
Several years ago, after a wee party with friends and far too much wine, i woke up with some suprise to discover myself on university campus...

Inside one of the residential blocks...

In the communal kitchen...

With people cooking breakfast...

And people revising and stuff...

And not seeming to care the least that they'd never seen me before, that I didn't go to the uni and possibly more suprisingly, they didn't seem at all phased that this drunken sleeping beatuy had managed to fall asleep in a shopping trolley.

Yes... A shopping trolley. I have no idea how I came to be there, either on the uni grounds, or in the trolley. Naturally the first thing I did was stumble out, clamber over the sofa, say my good mornings, and light a cigarette.

No one offered me breakfast so I left.
( SubCulture Hero ... ... He... .... Comes ... ...., Wed 3 Jan 2007, 1:15, Reply)

debenhams
if you ever get a job in a shitty department store, you might find despair makes you have some large jugs of rough cider and a half litre bottle of whiskey for lunch.

when this happens, don't go back to work in the afternoon, just go to sleep in the middle of a very busy main road at rush hour
(globalloon, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 1:01, Reply)

in a lecture during freshers week
not so unusual admitedly, but i was writing and mid word at the time
as i fell asleep the pen went down the page, and back up again as i woke with a start when my head hit the desk, so i scribbled across the whole page of writing
fortunately as i'd been half asleep the whole time anyway none of it was particularly legible before that so it didnt make so much difference
(skankgirl, Tue 2 Jan 2007, 23:04, Reply)

On top of a transit van
I think I may have had a drink at the time...

Strangely enough, I've never slept in one. Or there's the back of the pick-up truck at the Great Dorset Steam Fair. Parked in an empty field and put the canvas cover over the back, then rose like the living dead the next morning to a field full of caravans and people cooking breakfast. Pleased to say I did hear screams as I threw back the cover and sat up!
( PagDrag don't think we're in kansas anymore toto..., Tue 2 Jan 2007, 22:54, Reply)

Transfer Day Specials
Every sunday in the hotel I used to work in used to be transfer day. All the guests would leave early in the morning, and all the hotel staff would start at about 7am to deep clean all the rooms and public areas ready for the new guests. It was a gruelling day and finished at about 10pm after dinner.

However, you became the stuff of legend if you pulled a Transfer Day Special. Saturday night, you'd go out drinking, and stay out till the local nightclub closed at 4; 3 hours of sleep and then a 15 hour day of hard physical work. I attempted this only once.

Totally ratarsed at about 3 o'clock I caught sight of a lovely female in the nightclub, and tried my luck. My drunken charm worked, and she accompanied me back to mine at 4. Drunken monkey sex ensued, and we got to kip at about 5.30. An hour and a half of sleep later and rudely awakened by my phone, we parted and I trudged to the hotel. I was nearly dead. I thought my heart was going to stop. The wonders of black coffee sorted me out for about 2 hours, before I pulled out a bed to hoover behind it.

I was found by my manager, kneeling on the floor, head on the skirting board with a Henry Hoover on full whack next to my ear. I was tired.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Tue 2 Jan 2007, 22:32, Reply)

Not me, but a friend..
In the desert.

In a wetsuit.

Neck-deep in sand.

In a minefield.

The story (too long to paste here)

And to think, I so nearly went with him.
(inflateable, Tue 2 Jan 2007, 21:50, Reply)