One of the best summers I’ve ever had was the summer between my first and second year here at Queen’s. My friends and I had just moved out of residence and into a house on William Street that has so few right angles, it seems like something straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. The house looks like it has no place in reality. I’ve always liked that.
Looking back on that summer two years ago, I realize that what made the time so great was that everything seemed pretty far away from reality, not just our brand new old house. I think that’s what’s so great about living in the Ghetto during the summer.
None of my housemates or I had enviable jobs—let’s just leave it at that. We spent any free time we had on our front porch, sitting on old couches we had either picked up off the curb from down the street or bought at the Salvation Army for $20. We experienced the thrill of falling in love all over again with drinking beer out of a bottle and smoking “cigarettes” indoors without fear of being spotted by residence Dons or other campus police.
We’d sit outdoors in the sun all afternoon and jam on the guitar. We didn’t have any real people (read: adults) as neighbours who would complain about the noise. We’d play Frisbee outside our house for hours on end, running away in panic whenever a poor throw missed its target and hit one of our neighbour’s windows. They didn’t mind. It’s that kind of a neighbourhood.
Late at night, we’d sometimes throw some cheap steaks on the BBQ at three in the morning. One night, some upper-years ed by our house after we had just finished an inexpensive but great meal and introduced us to the game of frolf (Frisbee golf). It turns out one of the holes goes right by our Ghetto house.
My friends and I took virtually nothing seriously that summer—there was no reason to.
Living in the Ghetto during the summer is a great way to temporarily live a lifestyle where everything you experience is either a joke or a party and nothing you do has any real consequences. I just wouldn’t have gotten the same result if I had lived with my parents over the summer, or even in a part of Kingston where your neighbours are real people with real jobs who expect you to act likewise.
The Ghetto in the summer is not for everyone, I it. But my friends and I wouldn’t trade our times there for anything in the world. I think it’s an experience that every Queen’s student should try at least once. And don’t worry—after a while, everyone just gets used to the crazy squirrels that chew through your garbage bags every week.
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