Four of us, underage, drinking, on the main street of my hometown, after curfew. The entire town has a curfew (10pm) because of all the ridiculous crime that goes on after dark. Well, as teenagers, we were part of the problem at the time (it’s gotten much worse over the years, and drinking teenagers are tame in comparison, for certain). We were all sitting or frolicking on the steps of the post office, a large, imposing building made entirely of granite situated in the centre of town, or dancing around the “town pump”; another central feature of the town, an old water pump set in the middle of the street. This is a particularly sharp corner, so by the time you see anyone coming up on you, it’s very probably too late.
Well, the police showed up. They drove around the corner and turned on their lights (but not the siren) upon seeing us. Eek. We collectively seemed to sober up… and shot off like rockets into the night - down the front side of main street. :smack: Except… we knew where we were going.
Driving along beside us, the police followed us, yelling at us to stop running, until we all reached a familiar alley and tumbled into it. We could hear the cops getting out of the car, and we raced around the building.
The building was a church.
In the back of the church, there was a very small hole in the ground which led under the building. This was our haven, and there were plenty of beer bottles laying around down here. We dove into the hole, one by one, and held our breath.
We watched silently from under the church as the police came around the corner and began to pace, shining their flashlights over the embankment that runs parallel to the church (nay, all of main street; I once flew over it on my skateboard by the bank, which we passed on our way to the church, and got banged up pretty good), and one ran ahead to peer around the corner into the next alley. The light shone along the ground, and we all ducked, hoping our eyes hadn’t glinted in the flashlight beams, knowing damn well he must have seen the beer bottles under there, or heard the ground crumbling the tiniest bit under one of us, or heard a breath, saw a hair, or heard a thought or two.
They consulted each other, confused, angry, and wondering where the hell we could have disappeared to. Eventually, they walked away.
I don’t know how they missed the rabbit-hole. But they did, and we hid out for most of the night down there. I don’t know, and never found out, what the hell that place was for underneath the church. There was a door from the church that led into it, and there was a stone/cement bench under there, too. Above it was a crucifix. Otherwise, it was just a gravel-pit under the church. Lots of room to stand up and walk around.
It wasn’t the first *or * last time we’d hide out down there and not get caught, either. I don’t know if they ever figured it out. They came back there many times, but never seemed to find the hole. Or, perhaps, the joke was on us, and they were just trying to give us a good scare. If that’s the case, then we certainly did get a fright… but we were never scared straight. 
Although in my case, maybe they scared me half-straight? HA!
