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 Papa Mario
 |  | Sidewalks are my friends
< on 11/9/2012 7:48 PM >
|  | | | I hadn't explored in a long time. In fact this is the first one I have done while not "patrolling" in a security uniform. The rush was great and inspired me to write the following write up on a misquided train tunnel exploration. Feel free to flame. It is intended to show my fear of exploring, especially when it arises from my own stupidity.
Enjoy!
I took a walk today on paths I was sure to be technically trespassing on railway property. I have had an increased interest in the area and the historical significance of the railway in these parts (specifically Swede Hollow and the Western area that holds a still active rail yard). My work shares a border with the railway separated by a 10 foot high chain link fence. Initially I thought to walk the well beaten path around the building for some exercise. I followed the path right up to the fence where a 6 foot high passage through the chain link had been created by prying the chains apart. As it was so easily passable, curiosity took hold and I entered into the territory I suppose I knew I should not be.
Walking no more than 30 yards on the well-worn path I came to the road I so frequently drive on into work. The road was constructed over 50 feet above my head though along the bridge that traverses the railway. Immediately I noticed the refuse, discarded clothing, chairs and a cold but well-constructed fire pit. My eyes drifted along the cement incline up to where the bridge meets with hill to where I found what appeared to be a man staring back at me. It was difficult to tell if this was indeed a man as he was draped in a large blanket and sat among a pile of presumed belongings right beneath the bridge with a clearance of maybe 7 feet. I simply noticed that shape of a capped head atop the pile of indistinguishable items. To be honest I wasn’t sure he was awake, if he were male or a person at all.
I looked away after a moment as to not appear to be gawking in surprise to see someone there. From my distance of about 25 yards though, I felt secure in the fact that if indeed this were a person, they likely were not discomforted by my surprise visitation. I kept walking along with a feeling of uneasiness as my innocent but likely unfounded discomfort caused me to glance a few times over my shoulder. Each time I did I could not help but twinge at the idea that a slight paranoia was found in me in those instances arising out of discriminatory fear. My “tolerant” upbringing has caused me to constantly check my politically correctness and forcibly and consciously identify any person as a person no matter what form they appear in my life as: in this case homeless. Now, my liberal sociological education has also taught me that that conscious effort is in itself, in fact, discriminatory, as true tolerance isn’t tolerance at all, but rather a lack of distinction or classification. My liberal scientific education ardently combats this as a mere possibility, as humans have evolved to distinguish all kinds of differences. This is true in nature and in humanity: In animalistic behavior and social behavior. These distinctions are supposed to be survival mechanisms.
Aware of the mental conflict parading through my mind I pushed on to where I hoped to find a tunnel I had seen from the road each morning. The tunnel was about 60 feet tall and wide made of brick or cobble or some other substance I would not be ill-suited to identify. The massive man-made mouth gaped open to let out a fairly clean and well-conserved set of steel tracks that shot out of the behemoth in a surprisingly reserved way. I walked about 8 feet off to the west of the tracks to give myself plenty of room in case it was in fact an active rail. The stony yard that lay beneath the wood and steel of the line became increasingly uncomfortable to walk upon so I shifted over to stepping on the wooded feet of the track itself but tenuously cautious to stay outside of the parallel lines themselves for a pseudo-mental precaution. I stopped for a moment to gaze back along the bending rail to ensure it was merely the sound of traffic about one hundred yard back at the bridge I heard and not a steel monster come to punish me for walking its corridor. Safe. For now I supposed.
I walked willingly into the throat of the beast, cautiously, making an effort to step once on each wooden foot, making my steps rather short and quick. I heard something drop. I looked up to where I thought I heard it fall. Nothing. Maybe a bird? Something worse? Nothing. I took a deep breath in and pushed off again with my back foot. The sound again. I put my foot down gently. A softer sound. I realized that the wood beneath the steel was, in places, warped and the pressure of my stepping had caused it to strike bluntly against the steel line and echo the frightening sound of the walls of the monstrous semi-circle. I exhaled. I took out my phone to check the time. I had more than enough time to continue forward some more before I needed to turn back.
The light, though the sun high in the sky, was dimming and casting a peculiar angle of light from behind me. My own shadow was not visible above the tracks but caused a hazy distortion of my path ahead. The sound again. I paused, knowing full-well it was only my own damn presence that caused the sound and my fear, but I kept another idea near my heart, which, at the time, was mostly in my throat. This could still be an active line.
A light shown ahead. The light came from the ceiling. It poured in rays broken up by thick cement pillars lying horizontally across the would-be ceiling: ominous and intriguing at the same time. Some comfort came with the light at the end of the tunnel. Only it was merely the middle as it appeared to be, though I was unsure how far the tunnel rushed on past the pillars. Some relief came from the graffiti that was revealed by the light. This meant others had been here and successfully tagged these large colorful works. How active could it be?
I stopped. Lying 3 feet in front of me was a furry skeleton of what appeared to be a fawn. For all I knew it could have once been a full sized doe that had simply shrunk with the environmental changes around it. It was furry. And its two rear legs were broken. The broken bones were bear as it appeared to have been there some time. No blood, no meat, no face, no smell. A long time. I stepped into the center of the tracks to move around it. I looked back to see the curve of the tunnel closing the mouth of the giant behind me. “You have come here, In pursuit of your deepest urge, In pursuit of that wish which till now, Has been Silent. Silent”. Gerard Butler’s haunting voice as Webber’s Phantom rang through me as I looked near-frantically around for where I would shelter myself from a mechanical beast that could take me by surprise at any moment, barreling around the now bling corners of the tunnel.
I heard voices behind me. Police. I thought. Damn, trespassing would not look good on a resume. The back and forth, though inaudible for understanding were likely railway workers or pedestrians on a walkway somewhere outside the now rear for the tunnel. I twisted my neck back forward again, determined to see what lies ahead. Simultaneously a group of 6 or 7 pigeons roared off the ground and up into the sky light that lay now just 20 yards ahead. The sound was deafening as the flutters nearly shook the reverberating crescent shaped walls around me. My foot slipped of the wooden foot of the rail. Then I shivered. It was surprisingly temperate inside the tunnel. Though about 45 degrees in the open air and warm sun shining down for the first time in days, the tunnel was only about 40 degrees and still. No wind. Not cold but now chilling. As the bird flew up, fear flew into my mind. Did I spook the birds? Or do they know something I don’t? I needed out. I couldn’t stand the haunting notes of uncertainty. The terrifying possibility of being taken up and mangled by an impending train. I turned back now facing the dead deer and beyond, the exit I had so willingly used as an entrance just minutes before.
I ran. I could not stay there any longer. I turned my back on my curiosity, looking ferociously up to my exit, down to my footing and back at my demons. Behind me, the light from above disappeared. The mouth ahead opened again for me as I caught up to the curve of the beast. Below me another carcass. Had I seriously missed one on the way in? I leaped over the wretched thing even more frightened than ever. Dummy. How do you think the fawn broke its legs? I rushed on. I didn’t care if in fact railway workers were to meet me at my exit. I didn’t care if it were the police. I got to the end. I escaped. I was in no condition to walk back the way I came, even an ounce more of that hypocritical discomfort from my unadventurous encounter with the homeless man heaped upon my fear of the tunnel would send me into the fetal position. I veered left to a path on the East side of the tracks to clumber up to a nearby road and walk like a normal coward on normal cowardly roads.
Rumbling. Rushing wind. Collosal sounds clambered after me. As I climbed a few more paces up the steep embankment, it came. The train roared into view. I thought of the deer. And the birds. I thought of how appropriate fate would see it for me to lay eternally with the fawn. Idiot.
I reached the top of the hill. I did not find a road. I found more trains. To the East, had I forgot?, the railway was increasingly active. Evidently, right now especially. I climbed the grassy hill that covered the entrance to my would-be grave. Up and over. I found another well-worn path and followed it over the tunnel. I continued on for a minute contemplating taking the route I came or finding a new exit from my self-made hell. I still didn’t want to pass by the motionless, silent, head-of-a-man I had seen before. I followed the trail before me.
Turning the corner around some heavier brush, I saw a very white, very large ass. An actual rear end of a fairly fat man. He was bent over at the hip with his jeans and briefs hanging two inches below his cheeks. He stood motionless. I copied this idea, taken aback by the presence of another person and the silent, motionless nudity of it all. I finally saw some motion at his feet. He was tying his shoes.
The train continued to roar beneath me. A long train evidently. I continued walking, ignoring the pale fat man. The mouth of the tunnel now further behind me and the nudity as well, thankfully, I heard the sound of the train louder than before. I had come upon the cement pillars. Nothing but grass and cement lay around the gaping hole in the ground. An oddity to say the least. Why have a hole here? Lighting? I stopped for a moment looking into the tunnel, down at my imaginary demise. The train finally finished passing. I walked around the crater to where the path revealed another hole in the fence. This one was even bigger than the last. I gladly walked through it and back into the world I knew. Parking lots and sidewalks are my friends.
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Papa Mario
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 1 on 11/9/2012 7:50 PM >
| | | | Picture of the hole above the tunnel:
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Shocked
 
This member has been banned. See the banlist for more information.
Location: The Phil!
Gender: Female
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 2 on 11/11/2012 6:53 PM >
|  | | | Holy essay Batman!
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Ricky_from_TV
   
Location: Peterborough, Ontario
Gender: Male
I'm going to try and refuckulate it
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 3 on 11/11/2012 11:30 PM >
| | | | My entire English credit had less reading then that.
When Caught Always, Always Use the Jim trick. |
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Harvestman
 
Location: Somewhere in SORTA/TANK Territory!
Gender: Male
Everything about me has a poker face.
| |  | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 4 on 11/12/2012 2:54 AM >
| | | | This is like the Muppets trying to recreate The Shining.
Oh good, my slow clap processor made it into this thing.
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Gunner Trees
This member has been banned. See the banlist for more information.
Location: MSP
Gender: Male
DISCRETION IS A CHOICE
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 5 on 11/12/2012 5:16 AM >
| | | | I actually read the whole post I'll summarize for the lazy or those who don't want to read it all:
Papa Mario is a security guard in St. Paul and noticed a train tunnel by a road that he took to work. He had not explored in a while. He went and explored this train tunnel found a homeless man, 2 dead animal carcases, and a pale fat guy getting a blowjob in some bushes. His "tolerant" upbringing taught him to not discriminate against homeless people. A train came by and he exited through a hole in a fence. Parking lots and sidewalks are his friends.
I will also add that for UER this write up was pretty well written and very descriptive, Thanks.
MAKE MSP ELEET AGAIN |
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Papa Mario
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 6 on 11/12/2012 8:02 AM >
| | | | Yeah. Much too long I realize and my apologies. I should have edited it down.
Long story short:
I was afforded a lot of time to explore Minneapolis in years past while working security. Now that I have been out of that field for about 2 years, I miss exploring but don't have a lot of nerve. I checked out an active train tunnel recently and realized I will need a lot more courage, confidence and preferable a group to go with in order to do any more real exploring.
It was a fun rush that I hadn't had in a while and could have definitely edited my post down from my original journal-style entry.
Thanks to all who have read the post. This forum has been a great way for me to connect with people. Hopefully scheduling a meet-up in my area soon!
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Vectored Approach
Location: Morgan Hill, CA
Gender: Male
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 7 on 11/12/2012 5:52 PM >
| | | | No need to apologize for your long writeup. It was very well done. Almost felt like I was there with you. More pictures would have been good though.
I certainly enjoyed this post and I look forward to more from you. Ignore those who don't have the patience to read it all.
Honesty may be the best policy, but it's important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy. -George Carlin (1937 - 2008) |
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Keaven
Location: 15 miles from the Grassy Knoll
Gender: Male
| |  | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 8 on 11/13/2012 9:47 AM >
| | | | Posted by Vectored Approach
No need to apologize for your long writeup. It was very well done. Almost felt like I was there with you. More pictures would have been good though.
I certainly enjoyed this post and I look forward to more from you. Ignore those who don't have the patience to read it all.
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Vectored Approach obviously doesn't watch enough TV, doesn't appreciated instant gratification and has too long an attention span. I'll bet he even reads books. 
Papa Mario,
If you actually want literary criticism, I do think it could benefit from some editing. But I enjoy longer, more in depth write ups. And those who don't, don't have to read them.
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Papa Mario
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 9 on 11/13/2012 4:22 PM >
| | | | Well thank you.
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Papa Mario
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 10 on 11/13/2012 4:36 PM >
| | | | I think I'm going to create a user board for longer write ups. I'll check to see if one already exists (and if I can even create one without being a full member yet).
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Vectored Approach
Location: Morgan Hill, CA
Gender: Male
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 11 on 11/13/2012 5:23 PM >
| | | | Posted by Keaven
Vectored Approach obviously doesn't watch enough TV, doesn't appreciated instant gratification and has too long an attention span. I'll bet he even reads books.
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You are right. You got me. Guilty as charged.
Honesty may be the best policy, but it's important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy. -George Carlin (1937 - 2008) |
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5alive
Location: beat up truck camper down by the river
Gender: Male
| | | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 12 on 11/14/2012 2:38 AM >
| | | | TLDNR, saw the pic I know the tunnel. Check out some lids nearby you were in super awesome sauce old brick/limestone drain territory.
www.flickr.com/5alive
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Papa Mario
| | Re: Sidewalks are my friends
<Reply # 13 on 11/14/2012 4:34 PM >
| | | | Yea. Got similar info from another user via PM. I might go soon if it ever warms up a bit
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