Probing the edges of system late one night we found her, The One. That place in the system which sets itself apart from the rest. Like NYC's City Hall or Sydney's St James, this is Paris' jewel: An abandoned section of tunnel converted into an underground facility, including a tunnel packed with the fading red and green of vintage Sprague rolling stock waiting to be moved to a museum.

True to Parisian form not only was the space enjoyed for what it was, it was enjoyed for what it could provide as a party venue. The dumbest possibility was embraced and using the power already provided a huge stereo system was hauled in for the sickest party of the year. A few hours after it all kicked off nosy residents in the street above reported swarms descending upon their swank little cul de sac. Four cops arrived and discovered 200+ people partying to deafening music in an abandoned metro tunnel full of old trains. Word raced through the crowd as the four bewildered police reached the edges of the mob. The gates to the live system were flung open and 1/3 fled via the live tracks, 1/3 managed to escape via a vent shaft and the rest well, they were just too damn blazed to give a fuck.






Naturally the RATP flipped and in the weeks following the locks were changed to virtually unpickable Abloy Disc-Lock Pros and the other entrances locked, plated and welded shut. Access had lasted only a month and with total lockdown the party was over. Finally the Sprague-Thompson's can rest in peace until the day they're cleaned up and given a real home.

Paris, 2009.