As a journalism student, it's technically my job to observe what is happening around me, so I decided to give this a whirl to keep me sharp on my super-dooper long holiday (I'm not going back to school until February! woo!). Also, I haven't written in a while, and it's something I'm usually constantly doing. I decided this might kick-start myself back into my habit of scribbling everything down.

So, it was 11:10pm on a friday night, most of my friends were home for the holidays, and I was bored. I decided to go find a good place to write and complete this lovely task. My original plan was to find somewhere to sit in Jeanne Mance park. However, I decided that was probably a bad idea when I reached it and realized that I couldn't feel my thighs. Why must I constantly underestimate the brutal Montreal winters? Why?

Instead, I headed for my favorite 24-hour diner, Rapido. It's right next to where I live and is my go-to place for whenever I require food after 11pm (also the go-to place when Rather Dashing visits and requires his poutine fix). I thought it would be a good place to observe the drunk friday night Montreal crowd.

and so here it is...I give you the ramblings of a tired mind, typed and unedited for your amusement! (I would've taken some pictures but sadly, my camera is on the fritz. )

P.S. For you non-Quebecers out there, poutine is a delicious mix of fries, gravy and cheese curds. It also a hungry drunk's best friend.


"Here I sit, 11:40pm on a friday night, all by myself in my favorite diner. 24 hours, best poutine in town. My coffee is so hot the cup feels almost cold against my thawing hands. Just another typical, cold, windy, snowy mid-december Montreal night. A crowd of students my age sit around and talk at a table nearby. They're anglophones; I wonder if they also go to Concordia?

It's a bit funny that I am currently eating fires with mayo when about 4 years ago I was making fun of my boyfriend at the time for liking it more than ketchup. Nowadays, I've been converted. A man at the bar is snarfing down what appears to be a poutine- nevermind, a sandwich and fries.

"Can't Touch This" is playing. This is why I love this place and their tasty fries, orange retro benches and booths, their aging waitress who manages to seem cheerful even though she never smiles. I think I'm becoming a regular here; when I walked in she immediately asked me if I wanted a poutine (which is what Rather Dashing and I usually get). The man at the bar has now paid and left. The students are much quieter than they were. The receipt machine appears to be broken. One of the waiters was playing around with it and has just given up. It now sits in its cabinet, angrily buzzing away. And it stopped. Wasn't expecting that.

The waitress forgot to give me sugar, but I am finding that I don't mind. Cream is all I need, I just didn't know it. In the window is the "Joyeuse Fêtes" spraypainted on. Only five days left now. I'm facing the Tv they have bolted to the wall, apparently playing hockey all the time.

An SUV limo drives by. I saw it at the gas station while I was walking. What is the point of those vehicles anyways? So classless. Anyways. Lots of people are walking out and I'm sitting next to the door. Probably an unwise choice. Why does everyone in Montreal wear black winter coats? It's mildly depressing. A girl just shouted out "Oh, he's so funny." Makes me wonder who. Things are getting rowdy back there, with much yelling and laughing. Makes me miss my friends, who are all home for the holidays.

The waitress comes around to grab the 4.50 that I owe and tells me that she's coming down with a cold. Get well soon, cool waitress, thinks I. There are quite a few Christmas decorations up. A little tree looks over at me from above the cash. Snowflake lights flash white and blue in the windows. Ornaments were hung up over the bar. A star chills beneath the sign reading "24hrs". A perfect retreat after a day of not doing much, and days of being oppressed by the Christmas Spririt in shopping malls with carols hammering your ear drums over and over again. Here, the decor is seasonal but the music is hip-hop. Not my favorite, but I approve.

The six students are still sitting. I wonder why the other provinces haven't figured out yet that poutine is the official food of drunk people. And on that note, I believe I will join the woman putting on her brown, furry coat and walk back home in the cold. At least it's not far. Ah, the perks of living on the Plateau!

P.S. The woman in the coat was actually a man, oops. Also someone at the student table is getting aggressive. All I heard was "fuck off, fuck you!"


Other observations:

- The six students left at the same time as I did, and as they walked out I heard one of them complaining about how early it was and how they were all going to wake up at 8am as a consequence...somehow that seems unlikely :p
- The hot chocolate machine was out of order, which is why I ordered coffee instead. In retrospect, probably not the best choice as I am pretty wired now.
- Damn, that was a cold walk! I forgot how cold Montreal gets this time of year!
- Actually, the whole place emptied out when I left, although I am sure they will get their second wave of drunk people around 2am.

And that is all! I'm thinking this would be a cool thing to do on a regular basis, maybe once a week or something. I may just make that my resolution in the new year: take some time to sit, observe and write every week. It's quite therapeutic, really.