So your stuck between a funeral home and air conditioner dealership on a small trash strewn side street in Port of Spain at noon in full sunshine at 100 degree Fahrenheit with 3000 sweaty, dancing, half-naked people and four synchronised music trucks packed with about 1000 speakers and apartment size power generator units to provide an earthshaking sound playing the same soca tune for the 10th time over while an army of barkeepers refill the many plastic coffee cups that hang around the necks of the mascaraders with deadly mixtures of top self liquor and not much else.
But the view is fantastic:
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