Okay, so here's somewhat of a long story, so brace yourself..
When I was sixteen, my best friend used to come into town usually about one weekend every month (he moved to a town an hour away after fifth grade) and we would spend the entire weekend getting fucking baked. Sometimes, his grandparents, who lived about a half an hour walking distance away from my house, would go out of town, and my friend just so happened to know where their spare key was. So whenever they went out of town, we'd take the spare key, let ourselves into the house and we'd just get baked all day and night.
One June weekend, we did just that. He called me, said he was at his grandparents' house, nobody was there, so I headed on over. Long story short, we spent the night there, got baked, ate a lot, burnt out, and called it a night.
Now this is where it gets really interesting - the next morning, we woke up and decided that it was time for a little wake and bake. We had like an eighth left, it was a Saturday, and things were looking good for the day. Instead of smoking out of his glass pipe (which I think was dirty as hell), we took a two liter bottle and some other handy tools and we had ourselves a kind of half-assed bong (regardless, it worked.) The next thing we knew, we had a bit of a problem - it was a windy as fuck morning. First, we tried heading from the backyard down to the beach (his grandparents lived on one of them beach houses, beautiful place.) When that didn't work, we headed back up to the house, and onto one of their back porches. It was better, but it certainly didn't do the trick. We then decided that we may as well just go out into the front yard and take bong hits, seeing as how that was the only place where the wind wasn't being a bitch, and we weren't gonna risk stinking up the house. So as we were taking bong hits, getting fried out of our dome, little to our knowledge, the next door neighbor was doing yardwork and could probably hear us giggling our asses off, and maybe even smell the weed.
We continued to take hits, completely disregarding anything possibly going on around us, when all of a sudden, I just get this random urge to turn around - and I see an old guy actually walking OUT of the house. So at this moment, I'm scared as fuck, as I turn back around to see my best friend, weed in hand, booking it down to the beach. I turned back around to see the old guy giving me a nasty ass look, but I realize that it's probably best to go with my best friend, as I probably wouldn't be able to handle the situation alone in my condition. I grabbed the bong, booked it down to the beach and met up with my friend.
So as we started discussing crap, and what possibly could have happened, my best friend remembered that the old guy that was in the house while we were taking bong hits was the same guy doing yardwork in his own yard next door, and he was watering my best friend's grandparents' garden while they were gone. Oh, and did I mention that we were running past the backyard, onto the big, rocky beach - in bare feet. Yeah.. we didn't expect to be out that long. In fact, we didn't even think we were gonna be taking bong hits for more than five minutes, so we just left the door open and didn't think it was necessary to put our shoes on.
We eventually came to the conclusion that we couldn't be anywhere near the house - at least not for a while. So we walked along the beach a bit, and eventually began to wander around neighborhoods for a good couple hours, before eventually going back to the house (well, we went back to the house twice actually. The first time we went there, he was still watering the garden and we booked it again.)
Oddly enough, nothing much ever really came from this situation. Nobody came hunting after us, but the neighbors who saw us were told to call the police if they ever saw lights on inside the house while they were out of town. I did have some nasty ass blisters on my feet after walking around barefoot for two and a half hours, though.
Coincidently, we got busted the exact same day for a completely unrelated reason.
So yeah, that's my story.