It's 4 am on a Saturday night
(Sunday morning?) and we're finally getting to sleep.
Then we hear, echoing up from the street below, male voices shouting. We live right next to the main bar strip in Montreal, so we assume this is just another crew of drunken first-years stumbling home from the bar, and cheering each other on each time they trip over a fire hydrant. We wait for the voices to disappear down the street.
They don't. Something is going on -- maybe a fight. Something stationary.
Eventually I get up. I put my clothes on. I head out on the balcony to shout at them. Then I see what they're doing:
They've stolen a lineup rope from one of the bars nearby and are blocking the passage of pedestrians, demanding to that they show ID before they be let through. They are the "bouncers." One is holding "the list" -- a blank sheet of paper. They're asking people "Are you on the list?" Much shouting and chaos ensues, especially when the victims are as drunk as they are.
This is far too entertaining to get angry about. We spend a good fifteen minutes just watching their little prank. I've gone from disgust to admiration very quickly.
Eventually we head downstairs to warn them that they are making a lot of noise, and someone is bound to call the cops soon. They even apologize before they pack up.