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Not much interesting ever happens in my town except for the one time an asian massage parlor (named, oddly enough, Asian Massage Parlor) was raided by the police. It was a front for drug dealing or prostitution, I can't remember which one.
I remembered a few more interesting facts about Slough. Home of the Thunderbirds. Have the remains of 2 old Saxon hill castles (mainly the hills and the moats). Also home to one of the top teams in the English Premier Ice Hockey League.
These others not too sure of: Slough used to have the largest trading estate in the world and the first sound proofed room.
Bruins fan till the end.
Never assume anything, it will only make an ass of you and me.
Coolyo294 wrote: Not much interesting ever happens in my town except for the one time an asian massage parlor (named, oddly enough, Asian Massage Parlor) was raided by the police. It was a front for drug dealing or prostitution, I can't remember which one.
Yeah, the old rub n' tugs... we've got a few of those around North East Ohio... it's most certainly not uncommon
DR:80+S++G+M+B+I+Pwmhd11#++D++A++++/sWD-R++++T(S)DM+ Ask me about Brushfire or Endless: Fantasy Tactics
Relapse wrote: I was just talking to my 9 year old about things that happened in the town in Northern Maine where I grew up. One of the big events was when the bank was robbed by one of my sister's friends.
It started out in the 1960's during a town festival when he went into the bank with a shotgun, walked up to the counter and demanded money. The teller knew him from the time he was a kid and started laughing at him until she realized he was serious. She then started screaming and ran out from behind the counter and through the front door to the street, where one of the town cops was directing traffic.
While she was outside, panicking, the robber jumped behind the counter and manged to bag a quarter million dollars in cash. He then ran out to a narrow alley by the bank and made his way to a river that runs through town, where he had a homemade reaft waiting.
While the police were road blocking everything, he said he was floating down the river, kicked back on the raft and smoking a joint and laughing about how he pulled off the robbery.
He was next heard of several years later, when the police finally caught him in Sweden, where he owned a restaurant. He had forged himself a false identity using papers belonging to a man that had years later murdered a woman, so when the police finally caught him, it was over a murder charge until they realized who he really was.
What are some of the stories from other small towns or local neighborhoods Dakkites are from?
Sorry, but a small town bank in the 60's packing a quarter million in cash?....
Relapse wrote: I was just talking to my 9 year old about things that happened in the town in Northern Maine where I grew up. One of the big events was when the bank was robbed by one of my sister's friends.
It started out in the 1960's during a town festival when he went into the bank with a shotgun, walked up to the counter and demanded money. The teller knew him from the time he was a kid and started laughing at him until she realized he was serious. She then started screaming and ran out from behind the counter and through the front door to the street, where one of the town cops was directing traffic.
While she was outside, panicking, the robber jumped behind the counter and manged to bag a quarter million dollars in cash. He then ran out to a narrow alley by the bank and made his way to a river that runs through town, where he had a homemade reaft waiting.
While the police were road blocking everything, he said he was floating down the river, kicked back on the raft and smoking a joint and laughing about how he pulled off the robbery.
He was next heard of several years later, when the police finally caught him in Sweden, where he owned a restaurant. He had forged himself a false identity using papers belonging to a man that had years later murdered a woman, so when the police finally caught him, it was over a murder charge until they realized who he really was.
What are some of the stories from other small towns or local neighborhoods Dakkites are from?
Sorry, but a small town bank in the 60's packing a quarter million in cash?....
you'd be surprised how much cash even a small town bank has. Imagine, because it's a small town, everyone from the car salesman, to the grocer has some sort of account there. Now, how much time it would take to gather that quarter million on your own is a whole other story.
My town is home to an old-state sponsored orphange and orphan cemetary. They have stopped alowing ghost hunts ont he property out of respect for the psirit's of the dead (and fear of liability lawsuits )
The mineral springs supposedly have healing powers. I have drank from them, but do not believe I was healed.
Our biggest tourist draw is a huge sporting goods store.
My town is the hometown of a Top 40 Pop-star. Ocassionally, they come back and do concerts to raise money for the local school.
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Some woman killed her boyfriend in a house about a minute's walk away from my old school once.
Nothing much else interesting, but then I don't really read the paper or know much history about the place.
Oh, and John Bunyan (dude who wrote the Pilgrim's Progress) lived here most of his life.
And, geographically, we're the only landlocked county in Britain.
DS:90-S++G+++M++B++I+Plotr06#+D+++A++++/eWD251R+++T(Ot)DM+ JB: I like the concept of a free Shrike roaming through the treetops of the jungle. I'm not sure that I like the idea of a real Shrike sitting on my couch eating my Skittles. corpsesarefun: Thank god I missed be nice to shrike day. greenskin lynn: because of all the skittles and soda, you basically live off sugar water, like some sort of freakish human-hummingbird hybrid.
Another one from Lanark. The girnin dug. (or the unhappy looking dog) The local legend goes a little like this... This happened around 1830. Deacon MacDonald was having building work done on his house on Lanark's Castlegate. He argued about it with a Miss Inglis, living across the street from the Deacon, and who found that her dinner was being spoiled by the noise and dust. Out of spite, she poisoned the Deacon's dog (History does not record the dogs name). Understandably upset, he had a life-sized version of the dog sculpted and mounted it on the end of the wall, where it faced directly into Miss Inglis's house, so every time she looked out the window, would come face to face with its staring stony gaze. Girnin' Dug is still there, mortared on the corner of the house.
This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2013/06/19 18:46:49
If the thought of something makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it. item 87, skippys list
DC:70S+++G+++M+++B+++I++Pw40k86/f#-D+++++A++++/cWD86R+++++T(D)DM++
Hlaine Larkin mk2 wrote: Outside my high school (a year after I had left) somebody got killed by 3 guys wielding a TV
You know, death is never funny...but I did chuckle at the way this was worded. What's the story behind it?
yeah, I did kind of let my imagination roam with that one, with some amusing results. I'd be quite interested to hear that one too.
DS:90-S++G+++M++B++I+Plotr06#+D+++A++++/eWD251R+++T(Ot)DM+ JB: I like the concept of a free Shrike roaming through the treetops of the jungle. I'm not sure that I like the idea of a real Shrike sitting on my couch eating my Skittles. corpsesarefun: Thank god I missed be nice to shrike day. greenskin lynn: because of all the skittles and soda, you basically live off sugar water, like some sort of freakish human-hummingbird hybrid.
During the American Revolution Cornwallis and his troops tried to occupy my hometown, but were driven out by the citizens, prompting Cornwallis to call the city "a hornet's nest of rebellion," thus the nickname, The Hornet's Nest.
Which is slightly ironic given the city's other nickname of The Queen City, which referred to the fact that it was named after the wife of the dude we were rebelling against.
We also call our downtown, Uptown, because different. It's fun having to sometimes explain to transplants that downtown is Uptown and if something is in Uptown it's downtown and if they want to go shopping downtown they have to go to Uptown.
"During the trial the jury were told by the accused that Williamson denied murder but accepted he had hit James Williamson with a hammer, set fire to him and was responsible for his death."
Also, just found out today that the BBC moved here during the blitz because they thought the germans wouldn't bomb it due to it being utterly insignificant.
Remember how I said it was a distinctly "meh" town? The only interesting thing is that it was incredibly uninteresting
DS:90-S++G+++M++B++I+Plotr06#+D+++A++++/eWD251R+++T(Ot)DM+ JB: I like the concept of a free Shrike roaming through the treetops of the jungle. I'm not sure that I like the idea of a real Shrike sitting on my couch eating my Skittles. corpsesarefun: Thank god I missed be nice to shrike day. greenskin lynn: because of all the skittles and soda, you basically live off sugar water, like some sort of freakish human-hummingbird hybrid.
Relapse wrote: I was just talking to my 9 year old about things that happened in the town in Northern Maine where I grew up. One of the big events was when the bank was robbed by one of my sister's friends.
It started out in the 1960's during a town festival when he went into the bank with a shotgun, walked up to the counter and demanded money. The teller knew him from the time he was a kid and started laughing at him until she realized he was serious. She then started screaming and ran out from behind the counter and through the front door to the street, where one of the town cops was directing traffic.
While she was outside, panicking, the robber jumped behind the counter and manged to bag a quarter million dollars in cash. He then ran out to a narrow alley by the bank and made his way to a river that runs through town, where he had a homemade reaft waiting.
While the police were road blocking everything, he said he was floating down the river, kicked back on the raft and smoking a joint and laughing about how he pulled off the robbery.
He was next heard of several years later, when the police finally caught him in Sweden, where he owned a restaurant. He had forged himself a false identity using papers belonging to a man that had years later murdered a woman, so when the police finally caught him, it was over a murder charge until they realized who he really was.
What are some of the stories from other small towns or local neighborhoods Dakkites are from?
Sorry, but a small town bank in the 60's packing a quarter million in cash?....
It's really no stretch when you consider there were a lot of farm and trucking loans happening in the area and the next bank around was about 20 miles away. The thing that makes the story is how all the elements came together in this guys favor and the nature of his capture in Sweden, years later.
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2013/06/21 01:19:36
Nothing much happens where you guys live. My town just got street markings to control the hordes of rampaging cyclists who like to cycle a few times a week. Apart from that, the aboriginal land council is selling more land they got off the government (on cultural claims) to developers...again.
Manchu - "But so what? The Bible also says the flood destroyed the world. You only need an allegorical boat to tackle an allegorical flood."
Shespits "Anything i see with YOLO has half naked eleventeen year olds Girls. And of course booze and drugs and more half naked elventeen yearolds Girls. O how i wish to YOLO again!"
Rubiksnoob "Next you'll say driving a stick with a Scandinavian supermodel on your lap while ripping a bong impairs your driving. And you know what, I'M NOT GOING TO STOP, YOU FILTHY COMMUNIST"
Rick Astley and the Beatles are from Liverpool, the Titanic was registered at our port, in the early 1800's the first railway tunnels in the world were constructed under the city, the RSPCA and NSPCC both started here, we pioneered electric trains, the first girl's high school, school for the blind and mechanic's institute were all founded here, we were European Capital of Culture in 2008, we repeatedly get voted as having the UK's best nightlife, we're twinned with Shanghai, Dublin and Rio de Janero, among other places. You get the picture though.
If urban legends are more your thing though, my favourite one is that if the Liverbirds (two bronze birds atop the Liver Building) ever fly away, then Liverpool will sink into the sea, never to return.
Another interesting thing I just remembered, the headquarters for a rather large cult are located in my town. Eckankar they're called. They've got a big gold ziggaraut and everything.
There was a guy in my town back in the 1920's that was well known for bothering women. One day some of the ladies got together and formed a plan to put an end to his antics.
One of the women invited him to her place on the pretext of having some action. Before anything gotgoing, she asked him to go down to the cellar and get her an apple from the barrel down there.
He went down and leaned into the almost empty barrel, reaching for an apple, when the women hiding down there struck. He was upended into the barrel, pantsed, and castrated(farm girls with no squeamishness). No one was ever prosecuted because his reputation was well known, and people tended to mete out justice in their own way without consequence back then in my area.
The "cure" worked, and he pretty much ended his days roaming the streets of the town. I remember seeing him when I was a kid, shuffling from place to place.
Well, we're one of the oldest cities in the country, so there's a lot that happened here. We were once the richest city in America, now one of the poorest. We were the setting for Moby Dick, and the real life incident in The Accused. We're the #1 drug port in the US. There's a local legend that my house was part of the underground railroad. We still have cobblestone streets. Frederick Douglas and Hetty Green lived here, and so did the Boston Bombers. Up the block from me; there's a battlefield from 1812, my local venue, and a guy got stabbed this week.
If you visit, remember 2 things;
1. Stay out of the south end at night if you don't want to die.
2. Enjoy the fresh scallops!
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2013/06/23 23:51:11
I notice my posts seem to bring threads to a screeching halt. Considering the content of most threads on dakka, you're welcome.
Boggy Man wrote: Well, we're one of the oldest cities in the country, so there's a lot that happened here. We were once the richest city in America, now one of the poorest. We were the setting for Moby Dick, and the real life incident in The Accused. We're the #1 drug port in the US. There's a local legend that my house was part of the underground railroad. We still have cobblestone streets. Frederick Douglas and Hetty Green lived here, and so did the Boston Bombers. Up the block from me; there's a battlefield from 1812, my local venue, and a guy got stabbed this week.
If you visit, remember 2 things;
1. Stay out of the south end at night if you don't want to die.
2. Enjoy the fresh scallops!
Boggy Man wrote: Well, we're one of the oldest cities in the country, so there's a lot that happened here. We were once the richest city in America, now one of the poorest. We were the setting for Moby Dick, and the real life incident in The Accused. We're the #1 drug port in the US. There's a local legend that my house was part of the underground railroad. We still have cobblestone streets. Frederick Douglas and Hetty Green lived here, and so did the Boston Bombers. Up the block from me; there's a battlefield from 1812, my local venue, and a guy got stabbed this week.
If you visit, remember 2 things;
1. Stay out of the south end at night if you don't want to die.
2. Enjoy the fresh scallops!
What place is this? It sounds interesting.
New Bedford MA, the most endearing hellhole on earth!
I notice my posts seem to bring threads to a screeching halt. Considering the content of most threads on dakka, you're welcome.
Just north of my town, a plane crashed in the sixties. This was when they were trying to make short commercial hops popular and you'd have companies trying to replace the train (no highways back then) to go from Montreal to Quebec City.
Anyhoo, plane leaves a Montreal airfield, for some unknown reason, they crashed in a wooded and marshy area of Boisbriand. The crater was very impressive, and only a few of the 111 bodies were ever recovered.
The summers I spent in those woods, trying to find the crash site...
GamesWorkshop wrote: And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!
)
And if you're drinkin' well, you know that you're my friend and I say "I think I'll have myself a beer" 
