STN
sou'wester
running away stories here, please.
Taking flight
- Thread starter STN
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running away stories here, please.
Me and a mate got attempted mugged by members of the Bury Park Youth Posse in Wardown Park, some time in the early '90s. Said 'mate' ran like the clappers (Aesop was right). I lasted about 40 seconds of a kicking from five disgruntled Asians before some bloke with a dog came over yelling abuse at all of us ( because 'children play here'). The gang went into 'huh?' trance, so I legged it back onto the main road and jumped on a bus, doing the adrenaline electro-spaz twitch for the next hour.
We did raids on a few pizza restaurant lunchtime buffets when I was younger - literally in, out and running down the street in different directions, with gobfuls of pasta and potato salad, trying not to be spit it all out from laughing.
Got chased by an angry, shaven-headed man with a spanner who jumped out of a van, for no apparent reason, through an estate in Camberwell. I had a Celtic scarf on, which is the only reason I can think of. Either that or he just hated my face. Didn't stick around to ask.
Nicked a hoover from a student party (cos we couldn't afford one), and tried to make it with our booty back out onto the main road by vaulting over a series of back garden fences. Only I collapsed some Nigerian guy's fence and did my shin in, and he rushed out with 3 mates and called the police. My flatmate Andy tried to get up a drainpipe and fell off, busting his back. Spent a night in a cell and got a 'criminal damage' caution for that lark. Fuck knows what happened to the hoover.
I've run away from numerous taxis over the years, mostly successfully - occasionally making a complete hash of it. Falling over and then trying to mount a small barricade of shopping trolleys to jump over a wall to god knows where is the stage where you think, "It's probably less hassle putting my card in the ATM and paying the guy". Though my new tactic's to get out my phone, when they try to lock the doors, and start threatening to call 999, while self-righteously screaming, "Is this what you do when you get 16 year old girls in the back? Up the price and then lock the doors, you sicko?" You can often get away with not paying the other fiver through this method.
Got chased around Sukhumvit by a ladyboy who kept trying to grab my bollocks. Sounds funny, but Thai katoeys are hardcore violence junkies. Apparently one of them had kick boxed an American tourist into a coma a couple of nights before. Thank fuck s/he was drunk, I managed to get away and hide in some sordid bar where the girls were all in school uniform and an Arab was getting sucked off in the corner.
I was once buying speed off some Irish bloke when I suddenly became convinced he was a cop. Completely illogical, but I just stood up and said, "Hang on a minute", and scarpered out of the pub into the night.
Hyde Park Riot '94 - this is one of my favourite brags. Got caught in a group of stragglers and baton charged by riot cops, and managed to somehow throw myself over the railings, sprain an ankle and keep running to Green Park station.
I once took a shy girl with a squeaky voice to the cinema and it was a date from hell, couldn't get a bit of chat or enthusiasm out of her. I ran away half through the film, leaving her a ' biggest jerk I went on a date with' anecdote at least.
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Dr Awesome
Techsteppin'
Don't have any interesting running stories, other than the mandatory "getting chased by a homeless person" one when I was about 15.
However, I once had to hide from a scrap between two groups of (predominantly) Pacific Islander youfs and their fucking scary dogs, clubs/bats and god knows what else. As a white guy they would have seen right through me on any other night but I obliviously ended up between them as I walked up the road ahead of the first lot and met the second as they came down the road, each stopping at an intersection and hurling bottles at each other while I was walking across it.
However, I once had to hide from a scrap between two groups of (predominantly) Pacific Islander youfs and their fucking scary dogs, clubs/bats and god knows what else. As a white guy they would have seen right through me on any other night but I obliviously ended up between them as I walked up the road ahead of the first lot and met the second as they came down the road, each stopping at an intersection and hurling bottles at each other while I was walking across it.
I wish more people had running away stories! In order to keep this thread from dying:
My parents own a cottage in this small town on Hudson Bay in Northern Ontario. The specific part of the coast where we are located is weird because the tide pulls fully in and out every ten years or so, to the point where a few years ago you could walk a good couple of miles on sand before you even hit water. When I was 17 a friend and I managed to come into possession of a frightful amount of fireworks and decided that the best use of them would be to wreak havoc on an event known to a select few as "Driveway Saturday", in which a load of the local yokels would sit out on their driveway in deck chairs and get legless on light beer over the course of a day.
Our idea was to wait until it got dark and then walk out a few hundred metres out onto the dried up lake, completely invisible to these goons, and then rain fire on them from our hidden location. It was funny for about the first five minutes as they all dived for cover behind their deck chairs and cursed bloody mary at us, having not the slightest clue where we even were. That is, until one of them got the idea to get in his pick-up truck, load the back of it with his crew of drunk and now bloodthirsty yahoos, switch his high-beams on and drive out onto the sand flats.
We spent the next hour running around and lying as flat as we possibly could in the damp sand, shitting our pants, desperately trying to get back to shore and praying that their headlights would never cross our path. They didn't, thank christ for that.
My parents own a cottage in this small town on Hudson Bay in Northern Ontario. The specific part of the coast where we are located is weird because the tide pulls fully in and out every ten years or so, to the point where a few years ago you could walk a good couple of miles on sand before you even hit water. When I was 17 a friend and I managed to come into possession of a frightful amount of fireworks and decided that the best use of them would be to wreak havoc on an event known to a select few as "Driveway Saturday", in which a load of the local yokels would sit out on their driveway in deck chairs and get legless on light beer over the course of a day.
Our idea was to wait until it got dark and then walk out a few hundred metres out onto the dried up lake, completely invisible to these goons, and then rain fire on them from our hidden location. It was funny for about the first five minutes as they all dived for cover behind their deck chairs and cursed bloody mary at us, having not the slightest clue where we even were. That is, until one of them got the idea to get in his pick-up truck, load the back of it with his crew of drunk and now bloodthirsty yahoos, switch his high-beams on and drive out onto the sand flats.
We spent the next hour running around and lying as flat as we possibly could in the damp sand, shitting our pants, desperately trying to get back to shore and praying that their headlights would never cross our path. They didn't, thank christ for that.
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STN
sou'wester
Excellent stuff. In the interests of thread maintenance I shall tell this sorry tale once more. When I was 11 or 12, my mate and I manufactured a sense of grave injustice against the parkie in my local park (I think it had something to do with him not wanting us to continually climb over a particular wall on the way to and from school). It became our sport of a school lunchtime to go to the park and hurl abuse at this old bloke. I'm not very proud of this, and it evidently became unbearable for him as he arranged for a load of builders who were fixing up the adventure playground to hide behind trees and ambush us, so that next time our experience veered from being cheerfully vile to a man in his fifties then scampering away to running for dear life from a load of young men in the prime of health who just emerged from the fucking bracken like Macduff's army. Anyway, I got caught just as I reached the fence we normally clambered over as our escape route and had to do ye olde wriggle out of ye jacket routine to get away. Fortunately (from my perspective at the time at least), my name wasn't sewn into it. There really is no justice, eh?
I have run away from a lot of things, so I'll have to have a think and come up with more tales, hopefully ones that put me in a better light.
I have run away from a lot of things, so I'll have to have a think and come up with more tales, hopefully ones that put me in a better light.
padraig (u.s.)
a monkey that will go ape
oh jesus, many many times. mostly from cops of one sort or another. I'll just tell a couple tho. (great thread idea btw)
once when I lived in Philly I was riding down Baltimore Ave, just minding my business, when some car of drunk, obxnoxious Penn students starts yelling obscenities at me. so I flip them off, nothing serious yunno, but all of a sudden one dude throws a half-full 40 bottle at me. I take off hard at the next left and these dudes are chasing me around, I think I lose them on some side streets but then I see the car coming directly at me and I swerve to avoid it. one dude jumps out & actually tries to grab me off my bike but I clock him with my u-lock (which I used to wear in the back of my pants for easy access) and book it hella fast to my friends' where a bunch of punk rock kids are hanging out, for safety in numbers, but the Penn kids gave up on it after that.
another time in Philly on New Year's Eve (2004, I think) this vanload of crazy Montreal punks rolled down to celebrate & decided that we were going to walk into a frat party & steal a keg. no stealth, just straight lift & run. so we did that but before the keg even made it out the door there was, unsurprisingly, a scuffle and eventually the cops showed up and everyone had to run. I don't really remember what happened after that. I woke up the next day at 5:30 PM in the freezing cold squat I lived in at the time, with a black eye & a split lip, wearing a ballerina's tutu and a metal chain as a belt, across from a girl I'd never seen before (except we were both in separate sleeping bags cos it was so effing cold). she was pretty nice anyway, we wound up dating for about 6 months.
a bunch of times for fare evasion (back when I did that a lot) in many cities. New York, Boston, DC, Oakland & SF, Chicago. DC has a weird system where lights light up right before the train pulls into the station so you can time your turnstile jump. Once I did it with a group of 6 & the dude chased us down the stairs & we just made it as the train pulled out, him pounding on the glass like in a movie.
I dunno, I have more, including some particularly crazy ones from Mexico. I'd rather not go into some of the cop ones tho.
once when I lived in Philly I was riding down Baltimore Ave, just minding my business, when some car of drunk, obxnoxious Penn students starts yelling obscenities at me. so I flip them off, nothing serious yunno, but all of a sudden one dude throws a half-full 40 bottle at me. I take off hard at the next left and these dudes are chasing me around, I think I lose them on some side streets but then I see the car coming directly at me and I swerve to avoid it. one dude jumps out & actually tries to grab me off my bike but I clock him with my u-lock (which I used to wear in the back of my pants for easy access) and book it hella fast to my friends' where a bunch of punk rock kids are hanging out, for safety in numbers, but the Penn kids gave up on it after that.
another time in Philly on New Year's Eve (2004, I think) this vanload of crazy Montreal punks rolled down to celebrate & decided that we were going to walk into a frat party & steal a keg. no stealth, just straight lift & run. so we did that but before the keg even made it out the door there was, unsurprisingly, a scuffle and eventually the cops showed up and everyone had to run. I don't really remember what happened after that. I woke up the next day at 5:30 PM in the freezing cold squat I lived in at the time, with a black eye & a split lip, wearing a ballerina's tutu and a metal chain as a belt, across from a girl I'd never seen before (except we were both in separate sleeping bags cos it was so effing cold). she was pretty nice anyway, we wound up dating for about 6 months.
a bunch of times for fare evasion (back when I did that a lot) in many cities. New York, Boston, DC, Oakland & SF, Chicago. DC has a weird system where lights light up right before the train pulls into the station so you can time your turnstile jump. Once I did it with a group of 6 & the dude chased us down the stairs & we just made it as the train pulled out, him pounding on the glass like in a movie.
I dunno, I have more, including some particularly crazy ones from Mexico. I'd rather not go into some of the cop ones tho.
IdleRich
IdleRich
I'm sure I told this before but once I got caught having sex in the toilets of a nightclub, got dragged out through the dancefloor by the bouncers with my trousers round my ankles. The girl I was with also got thrown out and, once we were outside, they refused to let her get her coat back which contained all her cards and, I believe, her week's wages. Basically they decided that as punishment for having sex they would steal her coat - there was a big argument at this point and eventually I snapped and - having a really bad cold - I hawked up a huge amount of phlegm and spat it in the guy's face. It was a direct hit and I had a brief glimpse of it dribbling down his face before I turned and showed him a clean pair of heels. He gave chase but realising he wasn't gonna catch me he threw his mobile phone (at least I think that's what it was) at me. While he was otherwise engaged my friend managed to nip in and get her stuff back so the story had a happy ending.
Strangely enough my friend told me a story with a similar beginning recently. He was thrown out of a bar or something for being drunk and then realised that he had left his coat in there. They again refused to return the garment and there was another robust exchange of views. However, my friend decided to deal with the situation differently - he shouted out "OK, you want my clothes - take them!" and began removing his clothes piece by piece and throwing them at the bouncers who promptly called the police. When the police turned up he was naked in the middle of Islington Green at chucking out time. They put him in the van and ordered him to dress but he leapt out and made a break for it only to be caught agaiin. He spent a night in the cells and I don't think he got his coat back either which goes to demonstrate the superiority of my approach.
Strangely enough my friend told me a story with a similar beginning recently. He was thrown out of a bar or something for being drunk and then realised that he had left his coat in there. They again refused to return the garment and there was another robust exchange of views. However, my friend decided to deal with the situation differently - he shouted out "OK, you want my clothes - take them!" and began removing his clothes piece by piece and throwing them at the bouncers who promptly called the police. When the police turned up he was naked in the middle of Islington Green at chucking out time. They put him in the van and ordered him to dress but he leapt out and made a break for it only to be caught agaiin. He spent a night in the cells and I don't think he got his coat back either which goes to demonstrate the superiority of my approach.
STN
sou'wester
Bouncers are often not allowed to leave their door aren't they? A small, well-spoken friend of mine was ill-treated by a bouncer years ago and, having been thrown out of the club, struck the guy on the face as he turned away. Miraculously, the bouncer fell over and my mate was able to sprint up the street and round the corner, there to watch the bouncer pacing round and round with steam coming out of his ears.
I have a taxi dodge one which ended a fervent spree of the activity:
I was running from basically every taxi possible when around age 18-20 and one night didn't quite plan the escape route fully and was way to drunk. I legged it through some bushes to where my current house was and upon getting to the front door opened it to find the safety chain on (which was strange considering no one was in) which I then tried to break through with a few shoves. Unable to open it I glanced over my right shoulder to see the taxi driver stood by me, huffing and puffing and demanding I pay him. I calmly closed the front door and locked it before saying "ok, hold on" and opened the gate to the garden. Once in the back garden I shut the gate and legged it round to the back door which I unlocked, entered and then locked again. I headed upstairs to bed and fell asleep. An unknown amount of time later I awoke to the sound of the front door being banged. I peeped a look out of the window and to my surprise saw two police cars with lights flashing and several other taxi drivers. I decided the best course of action was simply to return to sleep. When I awoke the next morning I found a card from the police put through the door asking the owner to contact them which I quickly discarded. Several weeks later while working for a large international bank I received a call from a colleague who had the police on the phone asking for me. I calmly sat there and made all the right noises as they asked if I knew anything about someone running from a taxi outside my house (while everyone in the office stopped what they were doing to listen). The best bit was listening to a pin-point exact description of myself and what I had been wearing being read to me by the copper and replying I had no idea who it was.
I was running from basically every taxi possible when around age 18-20 and one night didn't quite plan the escape route fully and was way to drunk. I legged it through some bushes to where my current house was and upon getting to the front door opened it to find the safety chain on (which was strange considering no one was in) which I then tried to break through with a few shoves. Unable to open it I glanced over my right shoulder to see the taxi driver stood by me, huffing and puffing and demanding I pay him. I calmly closed the front door and locked it before saying "ok, hold on" and opened the gate to the garden. Once in the back garden I shut the gate and legged it round to the back door which I unlocked, entered and then locked again. I headed upstairs to bed and fell asleep. An unknown amount of time later I awoke to the sound of the front door being banged. I peeped a look out of the window and to my surprise saw two police cars with lights flashing and several other taxi drivers. I decided the best course of action was simply to return to sleep. When I awoke the next morning I found a card from the police put through the door asking the owner to contact them which I quickly discarded. Several weeks later while working for a large international bank I received a call from a colleague who had the police on the phone asking for me. I calmly sat there and made all the right noises as they asked if I knew anything about someone running from a taxi outside my house (while everyone in the office stopped what they were doing to listen). The best bit was listening to a pin-point exact description of myself and what I had been wearing being read to me by the copper and replying I had no idea who it was.
Why wouldn't you want to repeat this charming story!
I love how the cops took all the time to find out your name, what you look like, and your place of employment only so they could get your good word on whether it was you or not.