Wherein an effigy of me was bashed with a canoe paddle and burned to ash in a pit of fire. We know how to whoop it up.
I would love to say that the old me was burned with the effigy and I emerged as a better person on the other side of 33. I'm guessing it doesn't quite work that way.
Maybe it would have been more of a ritual if I had got all Lord of the Flies on it, but I just stood there and poked it with a stick mostly, took a few pictures to mark the occassion, and went home.