I love road trips. And not just because authorities and women don’t know me by face. Well, ok, that’s partly it. Your friends are never more your friends than when you’re in a strange environment. Suddenly, your rag-tag assortment of drinking buddies are transformed into a team of fellow-conspirators, body-guards, and pimps. Amusing, because as soon as the doors close for the ride back, we’ll resume ruthlessly ball-busting, mooning, and undermining each other.
I like love the new sights, the new streets, the new experiences lurking behind every turn; like a woman revealing herself garment by garment. But I guess what I enjoy most is the unpredictability.
There are no preconceptions about what will happen. Saturday night has as much a chance of finding me clad in a suit and tie at a jazz club as it does of discovering me in jeans and a hoody at a seedy strip-club. Maybe I’ll be sipping Scotch on the rocks. Maybe I’ll be pounding Miller lite from the can.
No one will know until we arrive there. Honestly, would anyone be surprised if I got deported before Monday? I might start calling everyone Dudley Do-Right, asking how they like living in America Junior, and adding “eh” after every sentence. However, I do keep having this vision of tearing down the streets of Montreal, a hollering mob in fast pursuit, up to the American Embassy, screaming, “Sanctuary! SANCTUARY!!!” at the top of my lungs.
Whatever happens, three things are certain:
- Alcohol will be had, though I will consume less than on my birthday. How sad is it that I have to promise to be more sober for New Year’s than I was for Christmas?
- Cuban cigars will be purchased and enjoyed. Fuck you, American embargo.
- The five-star hotel I’m staying at will have no idea what it bargained for. 4 AM calls to the concierge-desk for rope, a latex mask, and four gallons of astroglide are probably among the more printable things that will take place in those over-priced walls.
So again, should anyone decide to offer themselves as a guide, groupie, or pimp, we'll do shots in the Notre-Dame Basilica. The rest of you Cannucks: lock your doors, warn your daughters, and alert the Mounties. See you soon.
4 comments:
Hell yeah.....
....but not to the astroglide part I will have nothing to do with that. I my be your friend but you and me are still and will never be that close. Peace Bitch see you in less then a day.
I just assumed we'd be bringing hookers back to the Hotel.
I live no where near Montreal... but have fun...
Just a suggestion though you put EH' on the end of a sentence to make it a question....
or you raise your voice a little when saying to to cause a question... you can't just end every single sentence with it...lol.
Quebec is well very unique... in some places they don't even accept fellow canadians so good luck my friend... don't think that all of Canada is like Quebec...
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