[Vox Pop entries are personal recollections by individual contributors.]
I was in Central Station one night, around 1996. It was a cruise night in the basement. One of the small dark arches was used as a ‘dark room’, it was very cramped, with guys getting it on with each other, some on their knees. After about 20 minutes we realised that an older, larger gentleman who was on the floor, wasn’t moving. The arch was cleared, the lights put on and people made themselves respectable whilst an ambulance was called. He had apparently expired sniffed poppers, they had to do his trousers up before the ambulance arrived. From then on, for some years, the lights in the arch were switched on every 20 minutes. I hope he died with a smile on his face.