An article I wrote for non-drainers, about bringing some "fresh meat" into a drain. Reposted from MyMissourian.com:

When some friends of mine from back home in Arkansas came up for a visit, they wanted a proper tour of Columbia. I made sure they saw the sites before they left, but I wanted to show them a different side of our city.

So, early on a September day with a clear sky, we went shopping for flashlights. We were going draining; my favorite thing to do downtown.

Draining is an activity well known and loved by people who enjoy the peculiar sport of urban exploration. It's a fine hobby that involves making your way around underground via your local storm drain system (a public utility built with our tax dollars). Storm drains aren't sewers. You won't find rats or ninja-turtles or any other cartoon archetypes, just good times. In fact, except when it rains, drains don't have much in them that you don't bring, including light.

My out of town friends and I, armed with lights and little else, entered the drain where it empties into a well known Columbia creek. My friends are a bit put off by the graffiti on the concrete around our entrance, but as we continue in, the walls become bare as the light dims. We have just entered a large arched passage big enough to drive a small car down, were it not filled wall to wall with a shallow underground creek. The water here at the outfall is deep, and awkward to wade, but I assure my friends that at least it's just as clean as any creek back home in Arkansas. They reluctantly believe me and get their feet wet.

After a short wade, we reach a drier part of the drains. Of course, the tradeoff when you reach the dry ground is that the ceiling is just low enough that we can't stand straight up. My "guests" on this draining trip are a little surprised that they have to stoop as they walk, but they don't complain. It is much better than the section before it.

We go deep, headed still upstream. We stop often for pictures, and to see the views from the gutters at eye level - we are tourists after all. My friends have let go of all inhibitions about this unusual pastime, and we're now having all sorts of good times exploring side tunnels and looking up shafts to manholes where light pores in.

We probably stayed in the drains for about an hour, getting slightly dirty but thoroughly enjoying the mystery of being in a place few ever see. When we finally exit, it's far upstream and across town.

My visiting friends definitely enjoyed the drains. One of them has e-mailed me about it recently, and I advised him to how he can find some drains in his own town.