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So on a recent casino trip to Tunica, Mississippi, my friend and I stopped in a little podunk town in rural Alabama to see the sights. We came across this store:



With a name like Deja Boo's we could not pass it up so we went in. I am going to make the bold statement that this was the creepiest store I have ever been in. I was only able to take a few pictures of the interior before the really creepy saleslady told me that photos were prohibited. Check this out....

When you first come into the store, this is the first thing you see:



followed by this cryptic little sign:



What the hell does that mean? Following the creepy fundamentalist attitude of the rest of the store, I figured that this meant that I could be saved or something.

Now, here is where it takes the odd twist. This is the bathroom:



It was completly covered in classic rock graffiti....Not very fundamentalist....

Just thought I would share this vortex of insanity that I stepped into...

In all my travels, I've never seen anything that held a candle to that. Admitedly, I've never really ventured into the Deep South, though.

One of my wierdest experiences was in Warren, Michigan, a suburb of Detroit.

My little garage band booked an actual paying gig (a rarity for us) at a bar there called Shooter's back in '98. We checked the place out a few days before the show, it seemed like a perfectly normal, standard issue bar. We weren't exactly expecting an exciting gig, but they were guaranteeing the unearthly sum of $120.

To make a long story short, we showed up, and realized about 10 minutes before playing that it was full of nazis. Not skinheads, just big fat asshole guys with army boots and swastikas on their dart cases.

We played, it was uneventful, and that was about it. Until that point in time, I had never seen overt nazis in Michigan, though, so it was a bit jarring.

Does the belly of a whale count?

hull.

tommydski wrote:hull.

Lol! I once played in Hull. What a strange place that was. We travelled 70 miles to play to 5 people. While I was walking around in the afternoon 4 different "chavs" tried to start a fight with me for no particular reason within half an hour. Weird, dirty town with Neanderthal retards inhabiting it. Grimsby is another story best not told.

In terms of weird psycho post-industrial towns, I'll see your Hull and Grimsby and raise you Doncaster.

That's like Escape From New York, man. Without Donald Pleasance. Or Kurt Russell. Or Isaac Hayes. But with Ernest Borgnine.

There is this derilict Chalk Factory east of Berlin, which we happened to come across by sheer accident. We wandered around and thought there was something odd about the pattern of destruction. Then we asked the janitor and found out that they shot quite a bit of Stalingrad there. So they had this factory but built non-sensical concrete structures that they then blew up again, to get this authentic Stalingrad feeling. And you can explore for hours on end.
Its a bit like in Stalker:

These dead industrial (dead-fishing I suppose in Grimsby's case) towns are all very (un)well, but they are tiny (massive) oceans of paradise compared the WORST PLACE IN ENGLAND that is Morecambe.

Morecambe is pure, fucking hell-on-sea.

What is it with rundown seaside towns in England. I went to Rhyl in north wales a couple of years ago. It looked like the aftermath of a nuclear war but with chips.