LTV Inc. NYC Exploration

Beer Refinery, L.I.C., NY

Large iron caps dangle off of large concrete tubes from the ceiling.	It's a Sunday morning, and I'm on a rare solo mission. Armed to the teeth, I enter the grounds of Crackheads Oil Refinery, ready for anything that may lay in waiting. In daylight, the structure is not quite as imposing as in the middle of the night. There are actually a few more old oil tanks than you previously thought, and iron walkways surround the facility at strange angles. It is not long, however, before you note the scurrying sounds of a native coming in your direction from behind the building. In retrospect, it is amazing how relaxed one can be when your hand is in your bag, clutching a certain something that in a second could blast a hole into him bigger than Howard Stern's mouth. Much to my surprise, the man that emerges is not at all the hostile deranged crack smoker one would expect to be squatting in a location such as this. He's in his 30s or 40s, not at all smelly or extremely bummy looking. You say hi, and does the same, in a somewhat broken English. He proceeds towards the trailer on the west side of the facility where it seems his neighbors are already up and watching TV. There is only one reason I'm are here today though, so I pull out my jammy, and start shooting. Photos, that is. That's when I notice the unopened 6 pack of beer sitting in front of me. There are still other full bottles of beer scattered around, oddly enough. I walk to the back of the lot. Here, there are not quite as many stolen, battered cars as I remember. But there is a small box truck with at least 3 people sitting in the back of it. They just sorta look at me, and I just sorta look at them, and keep going about my business. Backtracking a bit, I pry open a door to the towering building. Inside is the most amazing, tightly wedged collection of rusting machinery I have seen in quite some time. There is a rusting ladder going upward. I back out the door, and head over to still another entrance. Inside the other end of the room, there is a large green puddle. Steps up lead to a room with large, concrete breast-like structures coming down from the ceiling. There are a few seats from cars, and a couch or two, though no clothing or anything else which would signify that the natives actually use this room. I check out the path the man emerged from. There is an iron set of steps which seems somewhat sturdy leading still higher along the tower. They chris cross above to the rusting oil tanks. At their base stands more trash, and bigger puddles of green water. I walk up to the trailer where the natives are, and walk around the facility on that end. Here there are 3000, maybe, 4... 5000 empty beer bottles and cans here. As I turn to leave, one of the natives is hanging out of the trailers door. 'You polish'? He asks. I say no. 'You take photo'? Sure, what the fuck. I walk up to the trailers door, and they're offering me beer. There's 8 of them, 2 of whom want me to take their picture. The trailer has mattresses, a TV, couches... not bad at all for a squatter shanty. I could have likely stayed and tried to get their story, to try to piece together why 8 people in their 30s 40s and 50s are living here, drinking at 11 in the morning, and apparently so drunk that they can't keep track of all the full beer bottles scattered around the facility. They seemed friendly, healthy and welcoming enough, but there were still 8 of them - all likely drunker than your mom was the night you were conceived. I don't like drunk people in bars, so I'm not about to hang out with them here. The intrigue remains, and the upper floors of the structure unexplored. Plans for a more extensive examination of this location are now under development.
Rusting pipes, gears, and assorted industrial items.
Rusting steps, and a pretty intact ceiling. Spent fire Extinguishers surround the burnt out trailer square in front of the facility. It was likely lived in by the squatters. No way in hell you're going to put out what burned this trailer with a beat up extinguisher or 2... In the background are the steps up the side of the building, and across to the tanks. Bashed cars, with a full 6 pack of long necks right at the drivers door. Punk in Drublic. The natives knock back the ice cold ones while watching soccer on this Sunday morning.