"Uhm, no, I just got in."

"That’s probably your best bet. It starts off mostly being shops, then there’s a pub or two, and it goes like: pub, shop, pub, shop, shop, pub, pub, pub, pub, pub." It sounded like a good place to check out.

I walked the length of Rose Street my first night looking for the right place to drink. It’s where I found the Hog’s Head, almost by accident. It was under a T.G.I. Fridays, and I was stopping to spit on the ground in front of it. Instead, as I stopped, I saw the sign for £1.45 Boddington’s and I was hooked.

Rose Street is very interesting in itself though. It’s filled with pubs, meaning that it’s filled with drunkards. The streets are wide enough for one car, and some parts of Rose Street allow cars to go down it. Other parts have barricades that prevent autos from gaining access. I’m not sure what the reasoning is behind allowing access some places and denying it in others, but mine is not to reason why, mine is but to drink whis-sky. Or something like that.

Many of the pubs have a sign reading, "Over 21 only, no exceptions" and while I never tested the signs, I was later informed that there was no need to worry, they just want to keep kids out considering that the drinking age in Britain is 18. However I stayed out of those pubs and didn’t really explore much of Rose Street.

Most of my time on Rose Street was spent walking home from the Hog’s Head, avoiding all the beggars who were sitting around waiting for free money or a free kicking. I’m sure that on any given night they received one, the other, or both. They’ll also accept free cigarettes in lieu of money, and if any interest is shown in them, they’ll talk your ear off for as long as they can.

It’s not in a bad section of town, but it’s very dark and there are lots of places for people to hide in wait. The only thing is that, while not well lit, almost everything is in view of a pub, so I’m sure that no major muggings or anything ever occur. It would make sense if fights broke out a lot, but nothing that couldn’t be settled by the two combatants.

Rose Street. If you’re ever in Edinburgh and you haven’t been to Rose Street, you really didn’t go to Edinburgh properly. It’s not that you have to get thoroughly drunk to appreciate Rose Street, it’s just an experience that should be taken in. In furthering the parallel between Binghamton and parts of Edinburgh, Rose Street is a lot like Clinton Street, it’s the drinker’s street.

Back when Clinton Street was a little less scary and the bars were more welcoming, there used to be a right of passage called the Clinton Street Run. If you could start at one end of Clinton Street and go to the other having a drink at every bar, then you made it, you succeeded. If you couldn’t make it, well, at least you got drunk and had a good time.

I envisioned a Rose Street Run, but then realized that I’d die. I didn’t have nearly enough money for a drink at every bar, nor did my liver have the strength to handle such a steady stream of alcohol. I’d be lucky if I made it through the first of the four blocks.

Besides, drinking like that on your own is not a good activity, especially in a dark cold area. In the event you couldn’t walk home, you wanted someone to be there for you, one of your bros. I must tell Dean and Bob to come here when they do Europe in the summer.