Long, long time ago (we still did not have the Euro), I fell out of my standard - and it is still - disco at around 0700 at a First of January, totally drunk after a nice New Years party. With me a friend from SA, equally drunk.
Pissing contest on, who would make it further on that telephone line that dangled between two wooden masts (4 mtrs plus) right in front of our eyes?
Me, I started, got up the post allright and managed about 3 metres along the wire when it broke. Yours truly smacked backwards against the post and found himself rather more drousy then before (but without serious injuries) firmly on his behind at the bottom of the post.
On comes a powerful spotlight, a Guardia Civil (Spanish Police Force, military) car had it trained right on me from the road above. My friend, so far in the shadows, made a silent disappearance. The officers close in on me, ask me everything from ID over residence (this is Spain and I am German) to where I live and what I was up to. I never lie, so told them what I had tried and how I had failed and how I could not believe that (not mentioning my friend of course).
Turns out the officers were in a kind mood (New Years day) and had their hands full, so they not insisted on opening a file but drove me to the village I lived, around 4 km away. Arriving there I realize I have no keys. "Must have dropped when I hit the post", I told the officers. OK, back they drive me and help me with a torch light to find the keys after a brief search.
Then one of the officers said: "Dont you even think about us giving you another ride home!", took 2.000 pesetas (some 8 Euros) from his pocket and told me to find a cab: "If I see you around this village in 15 minutes from now you are going to sleep it off in prison!"
Most stupid thing I remember (!) having done, and my most lucky encounter with military authority.
FWIW,
Rattler