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>Live in Prescott AZ
>be in college
>hear of tunnels that lie beneath the downtown area
>do some digging at the library, and with some historians at some local museums.
>learn the history of the tunnels
>tunnels used for Opium dens, whore houses, casinos, living quarters for Chinese laborers, later used for speakeasies and whore houses.
>find a few of the entrances, all of them are blocked off but one
>entrance is underneath a small laundromat.
>friend and I go there on a Saturday afternoon.
>ask lady for permission to go down there.
>she obliges us
>roam around in a pitch black maze
>the part under her store was a former speak easy
>the air down there is still and heavy, smells slightly moist
>darkness is unbelievable
>no proper flashlights just shitty random tiny flashlight from his car and one I brought from home.
>huge portrait of FDR on one wall
>busted safe on another
>huge bar made out of stone down there
>we walk further, small labyrinth of rooms, some middle school tier math homework from what looked to be the 70's
>a bunch of old ass pepsi bottles in the same room
>push further into the maze
>get to a bricked off hallway
>leave slightly bummed out
>one month later we hear of another entrance, one that links up with the storm drains a bit farther north of where the majority of the tunnels lie.
>we attempt to get through them, instead find a tiny vagrant sanctuary in the storm drains
>its abandoned
>just old mattresses and shit
>as we keep pushing further and further we hear a yell from behind us
>mfw its a cop
>he thought we were trying to find drugs
>I guess meth heads live down there
>we told him our plans
>he told us to fuck off
>I moved to a different city, no more exploration happened in the tunnels of Prescott AZ for me or my bud.
