Have you ever walked down a dimly lit, deserted street, all by your lonesome self, carrying enough stuff to make you teeter to one side, then to the other side as you compensate?

Where it was quiet enough for you to hear Charlie Chaplin perform?

You have?

I haven't! I don't know if I should envy you! Should I? But that's neither here nor there.

This weekend, I did the complete opposite.

Armed with a circle of friends and acquaintances, and some unnamed confection, not necessarily in the understood and oft used definition of the word, usually reserved for victory or the rich, we entered Aberdeen Street (picture is outdated, but still conveys the point) (*edit - Here's a short video).We were handed water bottles, wished good luck, and pushed and shoved our way to the other end of the street. At one point, I didn't even have to push or shove. I was carried along by the tide of the crowd. The cops were out in full force, and I was later informed they arrived by the bus-loads. The area was peppered by spotlights, which would've illuminated the liter lining the roads if it weren't for the hoards of people.

Another random note, it was as if everyone who was anyone was there, including people that aren't really anybody except for that one night. Then, back to relative obscurity.

And it was fantastic fun to witness a random girl attempting to hit on one of my house-mates. Quality entertainment while it lasted.

But I still don't understand the lifestyle. Nor do I understand how so many people can fit on old Kingston house balconies without fear of collapsing to their deaths.