Every month, I take a day and navigate a sewer system. I strap on a helmet, grab a flashlight, tape a laser pointer to my wrist, slip into some Scooba gear, pack some lunch(ables), fill some plastic bags up with air (for oxygen), and head underground.

You’d be surprised what you find in the sewers! One time I found some parts to a disassembled bicycle, and another time I found a bunch of loose silverware!

I’m the first to get these treasures (citing Finders v. Keepers, 1959), because people are “afraid” to go into the dark tunnels under the streets. They think that the rodents, dirty water, and corpses dumped by the mafia are harmful to your health. Not true! In fact, Bubba (a certified student nurse) told me that American sewers might actually be cleaner than most public bathrooms!

However, I did not realize how dangerous these sewer expeditions truly were until my trip into the sewers yesterday. I entered the sewer opening on 7th Ave. and 29th St. in Manhattan (aka “uncharted territory”), with my friend/rival Burt by my side.

It started off bad when Burt got tangled in a rat king. He got out easily, but it put him in a sour mood for sure. After that, Burt got even more ticked when he scraped his arm on a rusty pipe. About an hour into the expedition, I tripped on a loose brick, and fell face-first into a puddle of water. Before I knew it, Burt was leaning on my head, trying to drown me! I struggled to escape, but I was unsuccessful. I pretended to die (a trick I learned in my adolescence) and Burt soon started walking away from me. I hopped up to my feet, grabbed a brick, and bashed Burt in his ugly, stupid face.

That mingus Burt is currently in critical condition, and I can’t help but feel partially responsible for this, and now I’ve got an unshakeable case of the summer bummers.