In a famous squat house in new york
where i stayed for a couple of weeks while i was travelling round the states in 2002.

After a paricularly heavy night I stumbled 6 floors up to the room I had been staying in only to find a short aggressive french dude and his girlfriend who told me that their friend had offered them the room and I had to find somewhere else to sleep. Fine I thought and wrapped my sleeping bag around me and wandered off to go sleep on the skate ramp in the basement, as I approached the stairs very drunk and just wanting to go to sleep, I slipped on a loose bit of cardboard box and proceed to bounce rattle and thud my way down the stairs, all 6 flights of them and straight into the bike room at the bottom of the stairs. It was pitch black in there having no windows and the light had apparently been broken for weeks so after stumbling around crashing into bikes tables mattresses and anything else in that room for a good ten minutes I finally found my way out, only to walk straight off the wrong side of the stairs that lead down to the basement.. I woke up at the bottom of the stairs an unspecified ammount of time later, a huge gash in my arm and my hoodie soaked in blood, I must have looked a right state.. and to this day I still believe that my sleeping bag (which I somehow kept wrapped around me through the whole episode) is what saved me (at least from breaking something).
(skippy the ratboy doesnt want to write something funny here!, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 8:29, Reply)