When I was in high school, I was quite the talented wrestler. Senior year I was wrestling in the 275-pound class, weighing around 240. I had an opponent who was every bit of 275 who I hooked in a headlock and, in a miracle of leverage, pulled over my back. Essentially, I made this guy do a very high assisted somersault and come down flat on his back.
Bleachers shook.
Another quiet girl here. I think explosions are cool, but yet I don’t like to be around loud noises. Go figure.
The loudest (and weirdest) noise I can think of having made was the time when I was a bored kid, and decided to hold a lit match up to the butt of a large spider.
Yes, it exploded. There was an unbelieveably loud bang. The combination of that and the boiling butt juice splattered on me effectively stopped me from torturing bugs for the remainder of my childhood.
I did feel really bad about that spider later on, BTW.
Same here, but with 50 gallon trash can liners. You could see the shock wave.
According to that list a handgun is the 3rd loudest thing. I wonder where it comes on the list if you make it a Desert Eagle and fire it under a large motorway bridge (massive echo)
I’ve actually launched a Tomahawk cruise missile with a 1,000 pound explosive warhead.
Do I win?
Well, until someone comes along who’s pushed a MOAB out of a plane, I’d say that’s a winner.
I still remember the loudest noise I ever made like it was yesterday. My friend and I were returning from 3rd grade lunch and decided to stop by the bathroom before class. Actually, I was running for the door because I really had to go like real, real bad. So bad in fact that once in the bathroom I had to pull up before I could reach the stall and cross my legs as tight as possible, lest I make schooltime doodie in my pants. Even with my legs crossed though I could still feel this large bubble trying to make a break for it. I could feel it start to push my clenched cheeks apart and then “BLAM”, there was this incredibly load explosion!
I looked at my friend and he had the most startled look on his face. He thought he’d been shot. Remember how the elementary school walls were always tiled? That amplified my adolescent toot to an unbelivable magnitude. He looked at me and my face was all red from trying to hold it in, legs crossed and teetering back and forth trying to maintain my balance and he started to laugh. I leaned over toward the stall, grabbed the top and tried to pull myself toward the privacy of a stall and my gas bubbles kept coming . . . “BLAM! . . . BLAM! . . . BLAM!” as I drug my feet behind me. It was like I was farting extra large bubblewrap. By this time my friend was shrieking hysterically so outside the bathroom it probably sounded like some maniac having fun while firing a pistol.
All of a sudden the door flew open and there stood pretty, twentyish-something Miss Parker with this incredulous look on her face. She took one look at me and said “Are you okay?”
“BLAM! Yes, I’m BLAM! just BLAM! fine.”
She stood there for a second, sniffed, shook her head and walking off mentioned something about never ever, ever getting married.
Shooting my .50 BMG rifle.
Bam!
Ah, the sound of freedom… 
I once played the toccata from Bach’s famous Toccata and Fugue on a 4-manual church pipe organ with a setting that effectively “pulled out all the stops”. Not during a service, obviously.
Dry ice in a 2 liter soda bottle with a bit of water. Left on top of a parts rack located inside of the world’s largest building (in cubic feet). When it blew the echo lasted for 4 or 5 seconds then there was about 10 seconds of silence. Someone across the factory let out a loud “YAHOO”, then there was about 30 seconds of cheering and whistling. Then slowly a chant of “strike” could be heard coming from various places and within a few minutes 4000 folks were out on an impromtu solidarity march. The next day rumors flew about someone with an M80, we even heard someone brought a shotgun into work. A few of us knew the truth.
Chalk me up with the music crowd. Two stories.
First, my band playing in a basement with solid brick walls. We had it cranked and the audience couldn’t even get close to the stage it was so bad. One of the few times I ever bothered with ear plugs on stage. Christ, we even miked the drums.
Second, in college I was pulling an afternoon shift on our college station. We were int he basement of Comptom Hall, the communications and performance building. I was playing ‘Englishman in New York’ by Sting (it was the 80s) and when the drum break came I cranked the monitors all the way up and blew out the cones. Three professors and the dean came down from the other end of the building to give me hell for disrupting class.
Heh.
I’ve live fired a LAW, shot M16s and thrown hand grenades. None of them compare to what I did at nine.
I used to be a tinkerer. I was always taking old TVs and radios apart. I had a workbench in the garage where I tried to fix stuff up by replacing tubes I’d scrounged from other old radios and TVs. One of my discoveries was a sort of early surround sound. When I discovered this little gem, I couldn’t wait share the knowledge.
So I scavenge up more speakers and start working. Starting by opening up our first Color TV (this was in 77) I think I hooked up four speakers that first run. Tested it out it worked fine other than a slight dropoff in volume. But then I decided what if you have to go to the kitchen, or upstairs, then you still wouldn’t be able to hear. Now I’ve installed speakers all over the house. To solve the drop off in volume I used the aux function on the radios arouund to the house as boosters.
I’ve never figured out what I screwed up, but I went to turn it on and
BOOM
I thought the house exploded; there was this weird echo effect than in fact may have been in my head. Every single speaker was shot, including the one in the TV.