Post by joh on Oct 9, 2011 18:46:32 GMT 1
This is a route/trip report of sorts. Entertained me for an hour or two anyway. I may have misremebered some names, but there you are.
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“It’d be good to get to the top though.”
“Aye.”
Simon and Hans say goodbye to the statue and retreat off the first floor window several hours after the seeds of the plan had sprouted – just add...
“Are you still drunk?”
“Not sure, maybe a little.”
The plan could not be de-rooted and several nights later (possibly in the early hours of a Tuesday) the duo are in possession of some useful gear and are sure they’ve sobered. With these more favourable conditions, it is, of course, more difficult for Simon to repeat his previous effort. But the scene is now more or less the same by the statue.
Hans (or Simon) had won the coin toss and squirms roofwards, stopping now and then when other things move. Black camo on a pale building is not camo, and he carries a musical amount of hexes. Sling, and cam, and a pinch, and a roof, and– hmm, slimy. A quick think. Roof again. Still slimy....
First floor window.
“It’s slimy... and hard, not sure if I’ll do it.”
“Gear?”
“Sling’s good, the cam...”
“Hmm. It’d be good to get to top.”
“Yeah.”
Roof. Hans hangs around and thinks about friction and slime. Roof gunk might describe it better. Then he stops thinking about that and performs some neuromuscular operations, very much so in his right arm and right leg, but especially in his face. Praise be to Ra! (But He will soon be rising in the east, not good.) Hans chucks the rope around a Sphinx, which is no longer a red dot on a photo. Simon arrives and makes the final push and pull to the top.
“Can’t really ab here.”
“It’d be good to get down though.”
“Aye.”
Heil to the Sphinx. Some guy walks past, and looks over as Simon throws some apparent valuables from his favourite window, but it isn’t John McClane.
-----------
“It’d be good to get to the top though.”
“Aye.”
Simon and Hans say goodbye to the statue and retreat off the first floor window several hours after the seeds of the plan had sprouted – just add...
“Are you still drunk?”
“Not sure, maybe a little.”
The plan could not be de-rooted and several nights later (possibly in the early hours of a Tuesday) the duo are in possession of some useful gear and are sure they’ve sobered. With these more favourable conditions, it is, of course, more difficult for Simon to repeat his previous effort. But the scene is now more or less the same by the statue.
Hans (or Simon) had won the coin toss and squirms roofwards, stopping now and then when other things move. Black camo on a pale building is not camo, and he carries a musical amount of hexes. Sling, and cam, and a pinch, and a roof, and– hmm, slimy. A quick think. Roof again. Still slimy....
First floor window.
“It’s slimy... and hard, not sure if I’ll do it.”
“Gear?”
“Sling’s good, the cam...”
“Hmm. It’d be good to get to top.”
“Yeah.”
Roof. Hans hangs around and thinks about friction and slime. Roof gunk might describe it better. Then he stops thinking about that and performs some neuromuscular operations, very much so in his right arm and right leg, but especially in his face. Praise be to Ra! (But He will soon be rising in the east, not good.) Hans chucks the rope around a Sphinx, which is no longer a red dot on a photo. Simon arrives and makes the final push and pull to the top.
“Can’t really ab here.”
“It’d be good to get down though.”
“Aye.”
Heil to the Sphinx. Some guy walks past, and looks over as Simon throws some apparent valuables from his favourite window, but it isn’t John McClane.
