Montréal à minuit

After spending all day with my co-workers, and since I'd never been to Montreal before, I decided I had to reward myself with a night out on the town. I took an ex's advice and hit the gay village, where the city's infamous boy strip bars are located.

To tell the truth, I found them kind of boring, with obviously straight men posturing and teasing the few patrons in the room. After the strippers performed, they would roam around the audience, trying to befriend the bar-goers and inviting them into the back for a "private dance." I like to think that it's because I don't look desperate, but I think I just look poor or something because at the first bar, none of the dancers approached me. More likely, it was probably because I had a look of shame/horror/disgust on my face. But at the second bar, I drank a bit more, loosened up and accepted one particularly stunning performer's invitation. I lasted only two songs though, because I couldn't really afford more than that and because my puritanical American guilt set in. When I let the dancer know that I was done, he complimented me on my willpower. At least I think it was a compliment! But I understand now why so many people go to Montreal for bachelor parties!

At around midnight, I decided it was time to return to the hotel and I was surprised that no one seemed to be out and about. In fact, all the bars seemed pretty empty, especially for a warm Thursday night. I walked along the streets and noticed the abundance of cabs, and noticed that the bar-hoppers who were out all looked very, very young. I guess they were mostly in their late teens, which I found a bit disconcerting.

Also along my walk, I watched a brawl develop and spill into the street. Two young men were wailing on each other, causing traffic to stop and onlookers to pause. Their friends were yelling at them in French and English to stop, but I guess the beef between them was too strong because they were still going after I passed out of earshot.

The highlight of my night out had to be the poutine. Puppy told me that it was his favorite part of Montreal, and I can see why. I don't really understand how this delicious late-night snack hasn't made it south of the border, but it's probably for my belly's best. I'm not even sure how it was prepared because it looked like they shoved the fries into the oven before pouring on the cheese curds and gravy. In any case, it was totes delish.