Weekend Onesie: Urban Spelunking

Weekend Onesie: Urban Spelunking

I love a good haunted house. The real kind. I tend to gravitate towards those kind of movies. But in real life? No such thing. And the theatrical kind? Typically, they leave me wanting.

And I am not alone with in this desire, which is why urban spelunking is so popular. Technically, illegal... but way fun. 

I fell in love with this activity when I was quite young. We were visiting relatives in Racine, MN on a Sunday and we kids, as kids will do, got bored. The couple we were visiting were older folk and the few toys they had on hand were not our cup of tea. So, the five us asked to go for a walk and off we went - by ourselves, because this was the late 60's and stranger danger wasn't a thing yet... at least not a thing anyone talked about. 

We wandered to the tiny downtown, on the edge of which stood a dilapidated, abandoned bar. My older brother wasted no time figuring out how to break-in (he was our resident criminal) and the rest of us dutifully followed. We knew what we were doing was wrong, but couldn't help ourselves. 

The place was, indeed, falling apart; dried, rotted wood throughout. But it was also as if time had stood still. Tables and chairs populated the various floor spaces. There were various glassware, ashtrays, and mysterious bottles scattered about. We dared to use the stairs that led to an upper level, only to find more, plus an office strewn with papers and metal office furniture. 

It was enough to get me hooked and from that date on, I never passed up an opportunity to explore abandoned houses, schools, hospitals, grain elevators, stores, and the like. Sometimes it was just wet, moldy, dark, and depressing. But on occasion you'd find something somewhat pristine and imagine how it must have looked in its day. 

This activity is fraught with danger. Wood rots and dries. Concrete disintegrates. Floors give way. It's dark, you're unfamiliar with the layout, and you can easily find yourself on the edge of falling through a hole in the floor. Never has your inability to trust come in handier. And you should never do it alone (although I used to break this rule all the time).

These days? I satisfy my curiosity via the internet. There are plenty of urban explorers sharing pics of abandoned mansions, theme parks, etc. 

It's too dangerous in real life.

About ten years ago, a young woman died exploring an old grain elevator near Wirth Park (at one point, a favorite hook-up site, for me). She turned a corner, expecting more floor... but - nope. When I heard the news it gave me pause. While appearing at the Fringe Festival in St. Louis, I went and explored an old asylum/hospital. That was my last excursion. The entire time, I kept thinking of that girl. 

The one thing I have never understood about urban spelunking? Why do the explorers feel the need to spray paint all over everything? I love graffiti - on the wall of a bathroom stall, but not everywhere you look. And why do they always bash up stuff and break windows? I guess that's the passive observer in me (which is why I love museums so much). I like to leave a place the way I found it, digesting it's secrets without leaving any personal impression. 

That can hardly be said of the gentlemen in today's Weekend Onesie offering. I would say they are leaving quite the impressive impression... have fun 'exploring'.

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Have a lovely weekend. 

Enjoy!

- Uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

Head Like a Haunted House - 

Queens of the Stone Age