Going to a driving range filling up a couple duffle bags of balls, going to a beach and driving all those fuckers in the lake.

Broken into plenty of schools,construction sites run down asylums, churches, etc.

Climbed on top of buildings, only was caught once on top of a movie theatre, post 9/11 terrorist plot placed on us of course.

Had relations with a girl in a construction site across from Inner Town Pub.

I grew up in a rural area rode alot dirtbikes, ran around with pellet guns seems like I was always getting ran off someones property.

broke into this place one night..



how we got to the rest of the building..


the room we slept in


there are others...
spain has many abandoned buildings
soon i will try and squat one..

Marsupialized wrote:

Minotaur029 wrote:

Marsupialized wrote:

Minotaur029 wrote:

Marsupialized wrote:we broke into a restaurant in evergreen park when I was a young man and I urinated into the deep fryer, then we stole a case of pepsi and some uncooked garlic bread.
I also trashed the bathroom.
I threw the garlic bread on the railroad tracks afterwards.
I have no idea why we did this.
I can't iamgine how long it was before they changed the grease in that deep fryer, how many people ate urine bathed cheese sticks and chicken fingers.

Man...I made this thread primarily to bait you. Any other stories of this nature?

Do you have a question for Marsupialized?

Let's see now.
I burned down an entire factory once, wanna hear that story?

I wonder if the statute of limitations is up on some of this shit...

Please do...I am laughing under my breath pretty hard at the very thought...

well, I was maybe 12...little metal dude hangin' with my fuck up metal dude friends. One was named 'Ozzy' no shit, his parents named him Ozzy.
He saved up and bought a BC Rich Warlock with flames on it to play in our metal band, that's the type of dude he was.
We'd hang out by the railroad tracks, there was a cement factory on one side with huge sand mounds we'd climb in and jump around and the other side of the tracks there was a paint factory. There were weeds and bushes lining each side of the tracks.
It's a hot as fuck summer day and we are just sitting there fucking off bored, I decide to start lighting the weeds and bushes on fire. I'd light it, then put it out when it started to get going.
I did this for awhile till of course one time it got too big too quick and I was not able to put it out right away.
It starts spreading very rapidly and I was freaking, I was running back and forth across the tracks getting sand and throwing it on the fire to try and put it out.
At the same time Ozzy has a lighter and is re-lighting every bit I manage to snuff out, laughing maniacally the entire time. He was a real nut, just didn't give a fuck. I don't think it's s shock for me to tell you he's dead now.
Anyhow, at some point we decide it's a lost cause as the fire was way out of control.
Now to get out of the area, we had to run right past the public swimming pool. As we pass, covered in soot of course everyone has gotten out of the pool and has gathered against the fence to point at and gaze upon the huge fire across the tracks.
People are yelling at us 'stop them! They started that fire! Call the cops!'
We hear sirens coming, scared shitless.
We make it to one of our houses and hide out all night.
We go back in the morning and survey the damage. Holy fucking shit, the entire paint factory is burned to the fucking ground.
It was a HUGE factory and it's now a smoking heap of rubble.
It was on the news and everything.
We never got caught, they rebuilt the factory and we never heard another word about it.

What is your local police chief's name? Just so I can get it right on the envelope.

That was my factory, asshole.

Under what circumstances did Ozzy eventually beef it?

timpickens wrote:That was my factory, asshole.

ah what are you complaining about? You probably came out way on top with the insurance and all, you should be thanking me

Minotaur029 wrote:Under what circumstances did Ozzy eventually beef it?

he was stabbed to death by his baby momma, they were fighting and she stabbed him in the neck and he died.
He was a real kookoo, the world is most certainly better off.

Marsupialized wrote:

timpickens wrote:That was my factory, asshole.

ah what are you complaining about? You probably came out way on top with the insurance and all, you should be thanking me

Minotaur029 wrote:Under what circumstances did Ozzy eventually beef it?

he was stabbed to death by his baby momma, they were fighting and she stabbed him in the neck and he died.
He was a real kookoo, the world is most certainly better off.

I went to high school with a guy named Ozzy Buege (pronounced: BYOOJ). He was part Samoan, but he was not fat at all--or tall. He was some kind of martial arts bad-ass, and I once watched him--with my own eyes--jump up and do a back flip while kicking a padlock that was hanging from the top of a doorway. Then he just walked on down to the pop machine as if nothing had happened.

Brett Eugene Ralph wrote:

Marsupialized wrote:

timpickens wrote:That was my factory, asshole.

ah what are you complaining about? You probably came out way on top with the insurance and all, you should be thanking me

Minotaur029 wrote:Under what circumstances did Ozzy eventually beef it?

he was stabbed to death by his baby momma, they were fighting and she stabbed him in the neck and he died.
He was a real kookoo, the world is most certainly better off.

I went to high school with a guy named Ozzy Buege (pronounced: BYOOJ). He was part Samoan, but he was not fat at all--or tall. He was some kind of martial arts bad-ass, and I once watched him--with my own eyes--jump up and do a back flip while kicking a padlock that was hanging from the top of a doorway. Then he just walked on down to the pop machine as if nothing had happened.

My Ozzy pretty much just sat around and smoked cigarettes and huffed various chemicals into his head.
He could, on demand, play any metallica song you asked perfectly all the way thru, that was his only talent.

My good friend from long ago and I used to fuck with stuff/people all the time. He had made some lock pick tools from jig saw blades. He learned it all from this guy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Poor_Man's_James_Bond.

One night we broke into the local Boy's Club football field announcer's booth/concession stand/equipment shed. We moved every item we could from the building out onto the field and then locked the shed up on our way home.

It sure was fun.

Here's an "urban exploration" trespassing story for you.

One night when I was about 17, I was with 3 friends running around town tripping on LSD.

Two of the guys lived in Ravenswood, and they offered to show me and the other guy this really cool spot, a water tower atop a large factory, where you can look out over the rooftops of all the apartment buildings. The plan was to climb up there and and watch the sun rise. It sounded like a good idea to me. I was already over the absolute peak of my trip, just starting to really regain my composure, but still hallucinating pretty wildly. It was only a short walk away. We were eating at a small diner on Belmont, a popular hangout among the bored teenagers. Some skinheads were drinking beers at a nearby table. One of them said "Fuck that. That sounds like one of those death-trip places where some fucking hippy starts thinking they can fly or something and jumps off." As we left the place, one of his friends called after us, "See you on the news!"

We approached the building from an alley to the North. At that spot there was a small area of the building where it was only a single storey. On both sides of that small area it rose up to like 3 stories or more, so this was the only concievable way to get on the roof without entering the building or lassoing the fire escape. The single storey section was topped with a span of chain-link fence to deter intruders, but that section of fence had been wrenched loose on one side and was peeled outward and hanging down to within 2 or 3 feet of the ground.

We grabbed onto that bit of chain-link fence with our fingers, pulled ourselves up, and climbed the dangling fence until we were able to get our arms up over the edge of the wall. Once there, we scrambled onto the single-storey portion of the roof. It was exhausting. But once there, I could see a fire escape staircase on the far end of this section of roof. Only problem was, we couldn't just walk right over and go up the stairs, because of a series of large obstacles that lie in the way. Several huge, cylindrical metal ducts protruded out from the side of one of the walls, then made a 90-degree turn straight downward into the roof on which we were standing.

Eager to get past these things and onward to the roof, I immediately began climbing up on top of the nearest duct. My intention was to get up there, stand up, and hop from duct to duct until I reached the other side where the fire escape was. One of my buddies grabbed my shoulder, pulled me back down and said, "No! Don't go over the top. It'll take too long to climb over all of them, and it's too easy for somebody to see you from the street. Here, go underneath."

I ducked down, crouched onto all fours and began scrambling underneath the ducts. It was really nasty and dirty under there, and there was this wire mesh stuff attached to the metal pipes that kept catching on my clothes and hair. I must have gotten snagged 10 times while crawling under there. The going was slow and laborious. Once I got to the other side, I waited for my friends to emerge from under the metal pipes, and was told "OK now when we get on that fire escape, anyone on the street will be able to see us for like 5 blocks. So we have to run. Just run up there as fast as you can and when you get to the top, climb up the ladder."

I mounted the stairs and began running. Round and around, up and up maybe 4 flights, all the way to the top, as fast as I could. As I ran, I scanned the streets and alleys below for onlookers, but it was like 5 AM and nobody was out. When I reached the top, almost completely out of breath, it was time to mount the ladder. At the top of the fire escape was a flimsy, cold, steel ladder that rose to the roof. The bolts connecting it to the roof were loose, so it wobbled side-to-side when you held onto it. We had to climb up, then flip around to the outside of the ladder where there was nothing between us and the ground, 5 stories below. It was terrifying. The ladder kept wobbling and clanging against the brick where it was barely connected to the building. Up and over I climbed as the ladder sloped towards the building at about a 40 degree angle. Finally, I was able to make the step onto the rooftop. My knees were wobbling like crazy. I'd never done anything like this before, and it was terrifying yet exhilerating.

Once on the roof, we took a few minutes to enjoy the view, and I suddenly realized how hard I was still tripping. The climb up here had been so tense that I had been ignoring the effects of the acid. Now we were all running around like a bunch of tripping maniacs, picking up rocks, rusted paint cans and the like and hurling them off the roof to the ground below. After we got bored with that, it was time to tackle the water tower.

There was another rusty ladder running up the side of the tower. We mounted it and climbed as fast as we could. This was nowhere near high up as the fire escape ladder had been, but was even scarier because at one point it actually curved outward at maybe a 20-30 degree angle, so that I was hanging off it like a jungle gym, curling the toes of my shoes behind the ladder uprights to keep my legs from slipping off the rungs and dangling loose. When we got to the top of the tower, the roof was gently sloped and not uncomfortable to sit on. Once I got myself situated, the view was magnificent. We were maybe 7 stories up, with nothing blocking our view for 360 degrees. It was a dreary, foggy spring morning and the downtown area looked like some kind of alien metropolis. Once again I started to feel really high. A thunderstorm was just starting up downtown, and we enjoyed watching the lightning strikes off in the distance.

From the water tower we could see the Dunkin Donuts at the corner of Addison and Lincoln, and at about 6 AM it seemed like every cop car in the neighborhood was heading in that direction and converging there. Whenever we saw a squad car we would lie down flat on the roof of the water tower to present a low profile in the hopes that we wouldn't get spotted. The sunrise came up at about 6:30, and by then the rain was starting to drizzle on us. So we carefully climbed down from the tower, backed down the ladder to the building's roof.

To get to the ground, we used a different fire escape on the other side of the building. I was the first one down. I picked up my pace, turned a corner and was heading down the alley when I heard a cop's PA crackle, "You there! Yeah you! Come on down." Then I saw the mars lights flashing, reflected on the walls of the buildings behind me. Luckily I hadn't been spotted, so I ducked into a gangway and found a hiding place in a stairwell underneath a neighbor's back porch. I waited there, terrified, for maybe half an hour. When I emerged, everything was quiet. I felt bad abandoning my friends to get caught, but what could I do?

Well, 2 of the other guys got caught and hauled in to the cop station, the factory owners pressed charges of criminal trespass, they pled guilty and their parents had to pay a $500 fine or some such crap. They were under 18, so their records were wiped clean in a few months anyway. The 4th guy had seen the cops rolling up, and he ran across the roof and came down on the alley side, the way we'd come up.

I never went back on the roof of that place again. It's now a huge yuppie loft building on Roscoe, and I have a couple friends who live there.

We also used to trespass in the abandoned Granada Theater up by Loyola. That was a lot of fun. I think I still have some photos from the inside of that place.