Abandoned Metropolitan State Hospital

In today's society it's hard to imagine a government agency that goes by the name of the State Board of Insanity, but 100 years ago that is just what our neighboring state to the south had. In 1926 the Massachusetts Board of Insanity commissioned construction of the Metropolitan Hospital in Waltham, to be a state of the art facility housing 1,000 disabled patients. That number swelled to 2,000 at its peak in the 1940s, but the eventual decline in facilities such as this one led to Metropolitan closing its doors in 1992. Today, most of the two dozen buildings that made up this campus have either been razed or re-purposed into housing, but one building at the entrance still stands alone.

My wife and I are two different types of explorers. One of us was eager to pose for all sort of pictures alongside this decrepit building, but then happily called it a day. The other one posed for all the same pictures, but returned a few weeks later to scour the place for a way inside. And the urbex gods were generous upon my return, for within some bushes a small hole provided just enough wiggle room to make entry and, once I was able to stir up the nerve, begin exploring.

No abandoned building is complete without a couple pieces of graffiti that make you stop and take their picture.

Especially fun are those with horror movie references.

Some past explorer tried the same thing I would have, but if there was anything to be found in these drawers, it's long gone.

Massachusetts has several abandoned, campus-style asylums such as the Metropolitan, and many if not all of them contain a bonus - get into their basement and a series of underground tunnels connects the entire complex. Knowing this is the prize of every explorer, workers blocked the entrance to the cellar of this building, and perhaps some frustrated urbexer left this message for anyone who followed.

But you're not going to deter people that easily. Go around the corner and a hole has been punched through, leading to the stairwell below. 

I'm convinced I could have squeezed through - especially with the radiator to boost myself up on - but I'm not as convinced I could have pulled myself back out. In a moment of common sense that caused me to shrug my shoulders, I chose not to attempt to climb through that hole. But I did poke my phone in to snap a couple pictures, luckily without dropping it.

So I decided that if I could not go down, I would go up. Nowadays, a building like this would have a couple staircases plus an elevator, but a hundred years ago they built them with just one stairway. 

I rounded a corner but two things stopped me from going any further. One was this desk that someone had gone through great effort to chuck down the stairway, and although I could have climbed around it, the second and more disturbing thing was a loud thump that suddenly came from above. A thump that I still haven't made up my mind on. Was it a wild animal, a homeless person, or another explorer roaming around up there? I'll never know, because at this point I decided I'd taken enough pictures to call this adventure complete.

Or almost complete, for I stopped to snap one final hallway shot before scampering out the same way I'd scampered in.

There is beauty to be found in something that once was grand, but now has been left to rot. Regardless the type of explorer you are, the Metropolitan Hospital is well worth a visit, even if just to sit on the front steps and pose for a couple of pictures.