I saw this article on latimes.com just now, and felt a tingle up my spine. Once upon a time, when shenanigans with Louis and his roommates were common, we took a night-time-trip to San Pedro and explored old Fort MacArthur. Ridiculously terrifying. In all seriousness, I think that it’s one of the most frightening things I’ve ever done. It may have been when I realized I suffer from some degree of claustrophobia. Either that or the experience caused it. Remembering the dark and the terror and the scent of urine and the sound of rats makes me slightly nauseated even now. And the boys wanted to play hide and seek down there! Remember the part when Louis almost fell down that endless hole in the ground because he wanted to save flashlight life? Remember all of the times we thought we had stumbled upon bodies? Remember the infinite darkness and how tricky it was to get both in and out? I certainly do. I also remember how much better I breathed once we were OUT. The breeze off the ocean was incredible.
Then we played tag in the park/courtyard area by the cliff. We laughed, and I felt free and safe and joyful. And I never want to go back into a dark, abandoned, likely haunted, cavey place again. Yeck.