Greg and I spent last weekend in Montreal, QC.
We don’t often get away just the two of us but find like so many couples, we need to get away from Good Luck Charlie re-runs, grade four math problems, swimming lessons etc. at least once a year for the sake of our marriage and our sanity.
We chose Montreal because neither one of us smoke and we thought now would be a good time to start.
We had heard wonderful things about this city and it didn’t disappoint.
Here are a few observations.
- When you enter a store, all employees are incredibly friendly and greet you with a province-wide mandated “Bonjour-Hi.” How you respond then determines whether they will proceed in English or en Francais.
Despite my best efforts to always answer, “Bonjour,” their reply was always the same. “How are you?”
A French person could walk in behind me, hear, “Bonjour-Hi” and reply, “Booger” and the store employee would say, “Ca va bien?”
I started replying “Blongure” and really slurring it but still got, “How are you?” Then I went with my favourite, “Indeedly doodly.” This just made me sound totally crazy so nobody bothered me and I could browse without anyone following me around.
2. When you are away from your kids, you might be tempted to go into one of those stores where the thudding music shaking the floors, so inappropriate for young, sensitive ear drums makes you feel young and hip. You might even try something on like I did.
I walked into the change room with a cream coloured sweater dress. I think it was cream but at times it looked rainbow spotted from the strobe light and reflection from the employees’ pink hair and piercings. I found it important to document the strobe light portion of my visit for the pending seizure report at the nearby all-smoking hospital.
Cream because I’m boring but sweater dress because I love fashion that’s one degree of separation from my bathrobe.
I was accepting of the music, the lasers but when I clued into the song lyrics vibrating throughout the store, I was a little put off. I know this is going to make me sound OLD but I swear the young lyricist was singing something about liking the taste of someone’s thighs. All I could think of was, that poor girl’s mother. I found myself talking into the mirror while my face jiggled along to the sub-woofer.
“Do you kiss your mother with that thigh licking tongue?”
Get this dress off of me, I am out of here!
3. Our chosen mode of transportation was the taxi. I guess it was nice to confirm that the smell of hot, stale farts isn’t unique to my hometown but all cabs in general.
4. We saw a disproportionate number of prostitutes per capita and the first thing that came to mind was remembering when prostitutes were the only ones who wore tall boots. Not anymore, now everyone does, including the prostitutes. Including me. There’s no telling us apart.
5. There were also a number of homeless people but I found there was nothing to distinguish a homeless person from a home-able person because they all wear the exact same hat.
6. The only tense moment between Greg and I came when he was cut-off by a rather aggressive driver and said, “Come on over, YUKON!”
You’d be surprised how much Yukon sounds like “you” followed by a word I have no tolerance for.
Not even in French.
