Sickbag fun
Not quite a school trip, but an army apprentice college, so a bunch of 17 year old boys.

Me & a mate used to arrange to "borrow" the sports minibus & take a bus full of these scrotes to Dover, then spend the entire weekend crossing the channel on the hovercraft, buying up everyones duty free cigarette allowance & selling them back to the scrotes on payday. They got a day out & we made a few quid.

On the first crossing of the day 18 bleary eyed & hungover junior soldiers filed onto the hovercraft, & off we went. It's like a really bumpy bus journey, & you can't wander round, you have to stay in your seats. I'm sat next to my mate (we weren't junior soldier - we were in our 20's & supposed to be the responsible ones) & I did what I always used to do on airplanes etc. I took the sick bag out of the flap on the seat in front of me & tore open the glue at the bottom of it. I was chuckling to myself & saying to my mucker "this is one of those jokes that you never get to see the result of..."

30 seconds after I'd put the sick bag back (now modified into a sick tunnel), the lad sitting across the aisle from me covers his mouth & has the telltale green hue & sweaty lip. My mate Jules calmly takes the modded sick bag & hands it to him. I watched through tear-strained eyes at the confusion on this poor buggers contorted face as he tried to work out what was going on, he was sure he wasn't missing the bag, but couldn't work out why his lap was filling up with sick. Even when he realised he still vommed into the bag & caught it with his free hand at the bottom.

The was about a gallon of it. We'd had McShite for breakfast. The smell suddenly hit me & I regretted my stupid prank. The smell hit everyone else too, & it was like a mexican wave of people reaching for sick bags. At least half the people on that crossing were sick. I managed to keep my chunks down, but it was a close call.

Pukey Boy washed his trousers in the bogs at Calais & warmed them under the hand drier. He spent the rest of the weekend sitting in the minibus. I never did get round to telling him it was me that did it, & my mate insists he'd didn't give him the modded bag on purpose.

I no longer tear the bottom out of sick bags, & don't recommend it at all.
(Vinnie Gadouche 28K Dial up - God Bless BT!, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 18:47, Reply)

My House
For some reason my primary school reception class went on a school trip to my own house once. It was pretty big and in the country, loads of land and stuff but to this day I have no idea what the educational value was. I didn't learn anything other than how to feel a bit superior over my classmates which probably isn't the best lesson to be teaching a 6 year old.
(MyrtleTheTurtle, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 18:41, Reply)

School Trips
Ours always got totally out of hand, sex, drugs and alcohol among the under 16s.

One year we went on a cruise around the med, huge cruise ship filled to the brim with horny teenagers from all over Britain. Seriously the last night was a total mess. We'd been in Greece that day and found that they will sell Ouzo to just about any body, there were people spewing overboard left, right and centre, one girl was so pissed she slapped the teacher
Where was I when all this was going on? In my cabin with a boy from another school, his teacher caught us, I didn't have a dress on. They never ran that trip again.
(MyrtleTheTurtle, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 18:31, Reply)

Please doo
I dont know what the i like this button does can somone please show me
(abignumber, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 18:13, Reply)

From the Other Side
I briefly worked as a Teaching Assistant in Australia where I was regularly used as an extra herder on school outings.

One boy was a real nutcase, a proper 15-year old ADD headjob, who just had an overwhelming compulsion to fuck around with absolutely everything. I'd known him for a while, and he was actually an ok guy - but he just couldn't help being involved in whatever was least likely to look good at any particular time. He would always be caught, and didn't seem to care, no matter how much trouble he got in.

Anyway, his politics class had a school trip arranged to the High Court in Sydney. Not the most ideal of environments. I was given a simple brief - watch this one kid to the exclusion of all others. I was not to let him out of my reach for even a second, no matter what was going on. I was in fear and trepidation for the chances of a smooth trip, but it went ahead.

I managed to get him across Sydney on public transport with no major mishaps. But then we arrived at the court itself. You had to go through airport-style security to get in. Troublekid puts his bag through a scanner, and an alarm goes off. We get sat down and the bag is taken away by a security person. Troublekid really starts to sweat, which is unusual, as he's never been worried about consequences before.

Eventually a couple of Aussie FBI-types appear and explain that they have found traces of explosive in his bag, and that they need to question him alone immediately. They whisk him off. I wait.

About 2 hours later he is escorted back by the men in black. He is pale, shaken and very quiet. He does not have his bag or it's contents. The men say there will be no further action. He stays very well behaved for the rest of the trip, and then on for about a week after. He never reveals what went on, just looking terrified whenever I ask, and I never mention anything to anyone beyond him getting into a bit of trouble. I guess he'd learnt about as much of a lesson as would ever be required without teachers or parents knowing.

Still want to know what he'd been up to.
(meepmeep is, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 17:15, Reply)

Anyone from Devon?
Bloody Paignton Zoo.

Year after bloody year.
(Mr_B, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 17:12, Reply)

I went to an Enid Blyton-esque boarding school when I was younger
out in the wilds, and for one day each year, always the hottest, summeriest day in May/June we would hop into some minibuses to be taken to a remote river out in the forest, where we would have the whole day to picnic, play in waterfalls, build things in the forest, and basically do everything that a kid wants to do in summer. It was fantastic and everyone looked forward to it.

There was, however, one guy in my year who was a bit of a self-important tit. He was continuously banging on about his amazing dad, who was some high-up guy at a nearby chemical works. He never shut up about it.

Anyway, we all gather on one of the hottest days of the year for our annual picnic, ice cream and wilderness trip. We have our swimming stuff and huge grins. The headmaster comes out to inform us of 'a change of plan this year, we'll be doing something different.'

Yes, tit-for-brains had asked his dad to arrange a tour of the chemical works for us instead, and our slightly nutty headmaster had thought this was a brilliant idea as we were obviously bored of doing the same thing year after year.

This resulted in a pack of almost tearful 6-12 year olds traipsing round a swelteringly hot industrial estate learning about how clingfilm is manufactured in excruciating detail.

And, thereafter, the most horrific bullying imaginable to man for the remaining brief time the little git spent at the school. The suffering inflicted was impressive in both inventiveness and relentlessness.
(meepmeep is, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 16:31, Reply)

Year10 ski trip
We ate ham and cheeses sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner when on the coach. Everyone stinks of ham and cheese, and the stench progressively built up, especially in my room, where two of the more sweaty, smelly boys of the year are
with me. They both hog the shower for the first day, so after the tremendous coach journey I still stink of ham and cheese.

We got started on skiing the day after arriving, which was great. One dinner and 2 ham and cheese sandwiches later (Smell getting worse) I dislocate my knee, and get rushed to a general doctor (his name was Dr. Skiboot!! (Austrian)). He *pop*s the kneecap back into position, and Im fine (when back in its like normal). Then he unnecessarily gives me a cast from ankle to hip, I can barely walk in it!

12 ham sandwiches later (at a rate of 2sandwiches a day) I find I still havent managed to get into the shower, because this cast cannot come into "contact with water", and "I could slip in the shower".

Nobody will sit next to me on the coach "for fear of hurting my knee"
(ErrorCarriedForward, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 16:28, Reply)

sunday Night rollcall and TV....
yeah yeah ... I went to a boarding school. Sedbergh... and the home of "Pepperpot"... the best 'Shroom picking area known to man.

Sunday Night rollcall was usually executed as the TV was muted in an Ad-Break. Bert and I had been picking shrooms and making a crude 'Shroom soup.

We'd overdone it, and the then-prevalent Guiness Ad (with Louis Armstrong singing "we've got all the time in the world") came on with the zoom-in sequence that went Guiness Glass, Bubbles, Bubble, Universe, Solar System, Earth, UK, Cloud, Town, flat, Windowsill, guiness glass, bubbles - etc.... No Volume, but a very big screen and lots of whizzing pictures. We'd underestimated the shrooms strength, and we were sucked in.... Tripping off our tits.

We were rushing through spaaaace. and falling through the sky.... and shiiiit we're gomnna hit the earth... ARRRRRGHHHHHHHH

*sigh*

Apparently we weren't *imagining* that we were screaming, and we were infact gripping the arms of our seats and shaking violently and screaming at the tops of our lungs as we tried tried to escape our plunge towards earth.... While Mr Smith was stood there saying "Humpty? Humpty... are you ok? What's up with Bert and Humpty?"

School Trips? yeah... they can be a nightmare. :o(
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 11 Dec 2006, 16:22, Reply)

Alton Towers
I mean, everyone has a story about it don't they?

Second from last year of junior school so I was about 8 or 9. This was the high point of my year as a come from a huge family with no money, you can imagine how excited I was.
Totally overcome with excitement when I got there and had to go to loo to be sick within minutes of arriving. Soon recovered after some Lucozade from Miss. Had wonderful time and thought that nothing could spoil it.
Till we got on the coach and the girl sitting next to me vommed for most of the journey back (into her sandwich box and various other bags etc).
Cue Baby Siouxfan with tear stained face against window, trapped with girl who would not tell Miss she was sick, who smelt of candy-floss, bubble gum and vomit.
Eventually climbed over seat to sit with the scary, naughty boys at the back. I think I am still there actually...!
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 15:40, Reply)

Ski Trip
My school ran a ski trip for the 9 to 13 year olds, to some dodgy town in the French Alps. I was a very immature 8 (being a bit of a spod and a year ahead of myself).

I hated (and was hated by) my cohorts; they were a bunch of spoilt wankers, and I was a noisy, pretentious and generally annoying git. They ignored me, and vice versa.

Highlight of the trip for me therefore, was trying to ski in heavy snow. I couldn't see where I was going, fell awkwardly, tumbled down the mountain bit, whilst flailing my arms madly. Attached to said arms were my ski poles; the end of one of them caught the edge of my neck, and slashed a neat line along the length of my jawbone. long, but shallow. Bled like a twunt though, so went to hospital: cue not having to see my cohorts for a good couple of days, and lots of sympathy once I was back at the hotel.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 15:27, Reply)

My family not being well off when I was younger
I didn't have any spending money for my Year Three trip to the local visiting farm. My lovely teacher, hearing about this when I didn't go into the shop at the end of the tour, gave me a shiny pound and told me to buy something nice.
I did. I bought a bag of mixed sweets. To which I subsequently added the contents of the bag on the side of one of the pens, thinking that it would be a funny jape to get my classmates to eat animal food.
The bag had contained laxatives.
Not knowing this, the bag was passed around what must have been the entire class.
Although I can't remember the trip home, I imagine it can't have been fun. I never admitted the act.
( Dave the Mighty, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 15:18, Reply)

Permission slips
We had to get permission slips signed to visit Hampton Court Maze, because of the danger of becoming lost forever within its mysterious depths. Kathy Peters' mother refused. Probably sensible, as she was borderline mong.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 15:06, Reply)

Ski-ing in France
Last year of secondary school, 1994.

One week of getting drunk and stoned in a piss poor French Ski resort.

Staying in a room with 5 mates all carrying 1/2 oz of Morroco's finest. Stories about customs and strip searches led to them paying me a 1/8 each to carry it all across or them. Charging the other kids on the trip £15 for a 1/16 of quite frankly appaling resin lightened my mood immensly.

On the second day we met a group of girls from somewhere in London and proceeded to spend nearly every night climbing out of our bedroom windows, shimmying down the drainpipe onto the garage roof and climbing down from there to meet the girls in a local bar.

All was going swimmingly well, my new found wealth proving rather popular with the girls. We decided on the penultimate night to throw a little party, queue myself getting caught lugging a crate of lager up the hotel stairs and only had half confiscated by the slurring PE teacher. An event that was later to have consequences.

the girls were snuggled into the room with a few of their mates, a select few more of ours and things are going rather well, at around midnight there is a hammering at the door and two teachers (incredibly drunk) are demanding the rest of the beer. Picture seven 16 year olds holding the door shut while a dozen girls try to hide and two other mates stash every trace of drug paraphenalia into pockets and socks.

The teachers eventually gained entrance and searched the place for beer. 10 minutes later they were skulking back to the shadows with a paltry haul of a dozen small bottles of the local lager.

The next day I was taken aside by the PE teacher and told that he hadn't mentioned the incredible putrid odour of hash to the other teachers as if I'd had the balls to bring some the least he could do was let me smoke it in peace.

Spend the penultimate day off the slopes with one of the girls on the pretence of having a dodgy gut (the local cuisine was appaling and no further questions were asked). Lost track of time and my mates returned to catch her and I in flagrante in the kitchen.

On the last evening the teachers all gave up and allowed every single person on the trip to get lorded on the promise that they weren't sick on the coach back the following afternoon. Shockingly nobody was although there were a few close calls. Wine flavoured belches etc etc.

Length? I could fuck myself.

QOTW L-plates burned.
(Avalanche - Purveyor of sexual deviancy since 1976, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 15:01, Reply)

Shite trip
When I was in Year 4, we were doing some desperately dull geography project about different types of houses. This culminated in a field trip involving taking a walk round the surrounding area to observe the differences between detached, semi-detached and terraced houses.

Laugh? I nearly died (of boredom).
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:55, Reply)

I am reminded of another school trip...
Frankspencer has reminded me that I once visited a church with my school for RE (at least I think it was RE). It was a bit of a journey, but after several minutes we had finally arrived at the church.

It was next door. Naturally, we'd walked. I still recall having to get my mum to sign a permission slip, though.
(Squirminator2k is funny 'cos he's ginger, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:44, Reply)

Shakespere
We were forced to go on a trip to Hull to see Macbeth, our school is no where near the coast so it was a lllooonnnggg drive. Got on the bus only to have the coach driver shriek at us to get off, because i was at the front of this group having done some hard elbow work i ended up on last so had to sit at the front. We then had the 'treat' of watching forrest gump repeatedly until we got to the theatre. Play was crap. Almost got left at the service station on the way back. my mate and i had to run across those random bits of grass they have there to catch the coach at the exit. bastards.
(Abel wants to see if that new thing works, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:40, Reply)

There was the college trip....
With the music department and the drama department to Budapest...

All the nightlife in Budapest seems to be underground in the tube stations... very odd place. It was in one of these that most of our party ended up (a rusty door in a long concrete corridor, turns out to be a pub) drinking liters of beer for 40p and some of the local spirits. One of teh regulars spots that my mate is wearing a Metallica T-Shirt and in halting English, celebrates the fact.

"Heeeeeeeey!!!! Metalicaaaa!!! They are the rock-fuck!!!"

We're all a wee bit pished by this point so he joins in the festivities. It's only about an hour later when this guy has his arm around my mate and is trying to kiss him that we realise where we've ended up... A gay metaller bar. In a remote tube station. In Budapest.

Still, headed back to the hotel bar and got a snog from one of the girls so it was all good fun in the end. And our teachers were pished so didn't care either. Good times.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:29, Reply)

100 million % Trufax

In primary 7, our school trip was to our teachers very large, impressive house and garden for a BBQ.. But not before we spent 5 full hours tidying up said garden. Lawn mower, garden shears, compost - the works. I had the last laugh though - I edged her borders crooked!!

Cue the end of the story.
(clusterfuck detesting 'length' jokes since, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:19, Reply)

Trip to a local church
We were supposed to be studying this fine example of Norman architecture but things deteriorated a little when:

- Simon Johnson broke a thousand year-old stained glass window with a stone.
- Moira Kelly shit her pants and cried about it until it was time to go.
- John Dawson broke his shin trying to hurdle a tombstone.
- Previous to breaking his shin, he carved '666' in a pew with his penknife.
- Bradley was caught stealing from bags on the coach.
- Lee Sharpe put a dead squirrel in Moira's bag (exacerbating her shit-stimulated tears).
- Jonathan Booker stole a Bible and cried when we told him he was going to Hell.

The University of Sheffield no longer takes trips to that church.
(frankspencer, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:02, Reply)

Cocky Cock Made To Look Like What He Is
{whoops, got a little long again - read it it if you want, don't if you don't - either way don't get on my case about it}

About 40 students from my year in high school went on an outward-boundy-type trip to Snowdon (a mountain-ette in Wales) for a week once. You know the kind of thing - extreme gradient rambling, abseiling, kayaking, 'trust games', chucking sheep turds at each other and the like.

I remember now that one lad, who had been a total cunt to me throughout high school thus far asked me to give up my place on it so that he could take it and join a handful of his idiot mates who were going. I didn't fancy the idea of the trip much, to be honest, but told him to get stuffed on general principle and to my amazement he was honestly hurt - stupid fucker - what did he expect? 'Oh yeah, I just love being treated like a twat for years by some tit whose red cells outnumber his neurons - please, keep in touch after we leave school so you can have dibs on my first born as well.' Dickhead.*

One example of the trust games was to stand on a wall and fall backward into the arms of your schoolmates - since I didn't trust even the teachers at my school (two of whom were fucking on the trip - I think it's compulsory), I flatly refused to take part in it. The youth hostel-employed leader was fairly nonplussed by this. 'Do you not trust your own classmates then?', obvously trying to shame me into participating. 'I can count those I trust without running out of fingers on one hand mate, and none of them are anywhere near this place.' is what I would have liked to have said but I was fairly uncommunicative as a teenager and settled instead on a simple, earnest 'No'. The cajoling stopped right there. I got a fair few dark looks from the girls for days, meaning that any possible fumblings had gone right out of the window for the duration, but fuck 'em - I'm gay now anyway. The lads didn't seem to care very much - must be a bloke thing.

Of all the activities I enjoyed the kayaking most (partly because I've always had a thing for water and partly because the instructor was a good laugh), but the event which made it most for me was one trashmouthed pillock named Mark getting a richly-deserved comeuppance from, of all people, the French. I forget his last name, but it was never that important to me. Anyway, staying in a youth hostel, there were a number of european groups and families staying also and one French family were playing table tennis in the common room whilst a few of us, Mark X included, were playing cards or something.

Naturally, the family were speaking in French and Mark kept piping up loudly with stuff like 'I'm trying to concentrate here', 'Talk English or don't talk', and other such witless bollocks on the assumption that they didn't understand him. They didn't bat an eye through a dozen or so of these jibes then in the middle of one of them, they all switched to perfectly legible, intelligently-delivered English whilst still not even visibly registering Mark's presence, let alone his shocking (if characteristic) rudeness. Mark shut the fuck up immediately and the expression on his face kept me warm that night. One of few times I've ever looked at the French and thought 'Good work there' - twas a righteous put-down administered with aplomb, dignity and style - full marks :)

There is a stronger enduring memory of that trip though. The Pet Shop Boys were at number one with 'It's a Sin' at the time and one of the girls had a tape on which she had recorded it over and over and fucking over again and played it incessantly at volume. I didn't mind the song so much previously (hey, I was 15) but I hated it and her both by the time we went home. Whenever I hear the song now it reminds me of her - an experience I could easily live without, shrill little slag that she was.

Ah, one last thing, and the only thing that impressed the hell out of me on that trip was whilst we were abseiling on this mini-mount by the side of the road. There was a group of squaddies around this big ol'rock across the road from us, and the rock had a bit that overhung the grass it was sat on - these squaddies were taking turns at clinging to the underside of this hang doing push-ups upside-down. I think of that even today and still think 'wow'.

* To be fair, this lad and I went to the same sixth form college after school and got to know each other a little better, so in the end he wasn't quite so much a dickhead as he was in school.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 14:01, Reply)

PGL
Went on a school trip in the last year of primary school to a camp in Wales organised by PGL. (which we all thought stood for Parents Get Lost, but it didnt apparently)

Anywhosits, one day we went zip wiring. One of the girls, her name escapes me, was always a good sport, so she went first.

We could see her in the distance approaching us, and we started to hear a noise:

"shiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit"

Being eleven, that was the most funny instance of swearing we had ever encountered, until C-word made itself known.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 13:47, Reply)

Skiing
Ahh the year 9 School trip to France skiing! We were all about 14 – 15yrs old and the local shops served us Alcohol – bad idea! Vomit covered slopes, everyone swapping rooms, Love bites that were actually bruises caused by falling onto the Skiing poles, ‘Honest Sir!’. All the fun ended though when I fell upstairs, into a teacher (Mr Scoble) whilst proclaiming ‘Come on Hannah! Let’s grab another swig of Martini before dessert!’ and a Boy called Michael Taylor puking into the stew at the dinner table………..good times, good times….

Apologies to all pupils at my school who joined after 1997 who are now banned from the Valdesair resort due to our bad behaviour. Also, sorry Mr Scoble.
(Trix, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 13:28, Reply)

Cue
Why the frig is everyone using the word "cue" in their stories. It reads like shit. My new policy, I read your story up to the first instance of the word "cue" then don't read the rest.

Granted if you followed my policy, you'd have only read the title and not the rest of this post.

Bollocks.
(Kaer, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 12:34, Reply)

Year 11 School trip, and a day out to a theatre somewhere or other, to see "The Scottish Play" as part of G.C.S.E. English...
cue everyone sitting enthralled by the play, and then came the Lady Macbeth speech...

Just as she finished the ..."Unsex me now" line, in dramatic, heart stopping pose,

someone from the back (not part of the school trip, you understand) shouted out -

"OK Love, but show us your tits first"
.

None of us remembered much of the play after that.
( The Great Architect is still waiting for his account to be deleted on, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 11:12, Reply)

Hill Walking in the lakes...
My dad used to be a teacher at a school that had a fairly decent outdoor culture.

One trip involved a large amount of camping/walking with as little gear as possible.

They'd set off from one pace to another, with Buttermere in their sights. They arrived at the head of the lake at gatescarth farm amidst distressing amounts of torrential rain.

My Dad and 6 lads approached the farmer, who asid that the barnwas free, and they could happily doss down in there for an night amongst the hay and straw.

They did so and spent a lovely night, with howling gales and pouring rain outside.

***************************************

1 week later the lads and my dad had to go to the school nurse with an unusual complaint. They all had lice... Lice in thier pubic hair.

It turns out that while sleeping in the barn they'd picked up a HUGE crop of sheep ticks... and lice.. but obviously, noone believed that explanation.

A rumour will run half way around the world before the truth has even got it's boots on... They never lived it down.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 11 Dec 2006, 11:10, Reply)

I tried to give laxatives
to a meathead bully by placing them in a chocolate mousse. It's fair to say I (slightly) underestimated his intelligence, and so he told on me.

Cue the biggest bollocking ever administered to a year 4 student.

Good times...
(THIRTY-TWO - Sputnik -, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 8:49, Reply)

Patrick Stewart in The Tempest
Big group of performing arts students get special access to chat to him and discuss his acting and the RSC to learn how the innards of theatre works.

I tell him to make it so.

I figured that he never would have heard it before.
(__, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 8:30, Reply)