Carly and I were sitting in a small, trendy restaurant in Montreal, house music playing as attractive servers poured us Mimosas. It was Sunday. Sundays = mimosas. Around the table sat five French Canadiens who we had met only an hour beforehand: three bartenders, an owner?/manager?/representative? of a clothing line, and a synchronized swimmer who happened to be on the Canadian National Synchronize Swimming Team.
Of course...totally normal.
How did we end up here, surrounded by eggs florentine, French conversation and 1 p.m. shots of Jack Daniels? Connections, my friend.
Carly - who I have previously established as being a rockstar - was recently "made up" (I doubt this is actual industry lingo) by a semi-famous makeup artist/stylist for one of her MTV shoots. (I imagine that having a makeup artist do one's makeup is very similar to getting my hair cut by Bob, my local barber...except that Bob only speaks in grunts, would surely kill himself if anyone ever described him as "flamboyant," and somehow always manages to lightly rest his genitals on the armrest of the barber chair during the haircutting process, a spot which usually also happens to be occupied by my arm and hand.) At some point in their conversation, no doubt between his gushing of how gorgeous she looks (because somehow she always does), Carly mentioned that she would be going to Montreal in the next few weeks, to which he responded that his best friend happened to live in Montreal and should we happen to meet up with him it would almost certainly be a good time. You don't say...
STEP 1: Don't Dismiss These Chance Encounters. These Small Exchanges Are Worth More Than You Will Know. Save Everything...
Fast forward to Sunday Morning in our Montreal Hostel Auberge de Paris, Carly talking to me as she finishes putting on her makeup, me catching flashes of her in the mirror.
Carly: So, I know we don't know this guy, this "friend of a friend"...but would you want to meet up with him for brunch or something? He seems cool...
Me (always down for anything): Sure...I mean, what's the worst that could happen...? (thinking that, actually, the worst that could happen would be to end up completely inebriated by 4 p.m., me stumbling on stage at a gay strip club somewhere, maybe getting arrested for badmouthing the Queen or Nickleback, ODing on poutine...all of which would make for a really great story...)
So, an email and an hour later, we found ourselves nestled in a booth listening to stories told in a combination of French and English, eating and drinking, enjoying the company of our new friends. "Where were you planning on going today?" they asked us. "Oh, we kinda wanted to see the Basilica de Notre Dame and Old Montreal and all that," we answered. They frowned. This was not the correct response. "Okay," they said with a look one gives a child that doesn't know any better, "go see those things, but you must go to Piknic before the day is over." Piknic, they explained, is an electronic music festival held every Sunday, all summer long, at Jean-Drapeau Park. "Just get off the train and follow the music."
Yeah, that sounds awesome. We'll do that.
STEP 2: Take What Others Have Offered You. There Is A Reason It Has Been Given. Your Life Will Be Better If You Take These Chances...
Losing daylight, we thanked our Canadien cohorts for their advice and bid them "au revoir!" then headed out to join the throngs of tourists "seeing the sights." Of course, the Canadiens were right. The Basilica cost too much money and Old Montreal seemed too Disneyish, like it was trying too hard to be authentic and thus failing miserably at authenticity. We jumped on a train heading toward the Jean-Drapeau stop and the Piknic Electronik, though we still had no idea what to expect.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This is unreal.
This is like something you see in a movie but doesn't actually happen in life.
I can't believe we are here...
Thousands of people crowded under an enormous metal sculpture, its long legs lifting the riveted body toward the grey sky threatening to break open on us at any moment. The music pulsed smoothly, the multitude responding with arms raised, eyes closed, vibrating bodies all held in place by time signatures. All around us were the artists of Montreal, the hipsters, the shabby chic, those too trendy to be considered trendy; asymmetrical haircuts, boots, piercings, tattoos, smiles, colors, movement, beauty. And we, in the middle of everything, absorbing and touching it all.
The DJs remixed Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody. We danced. In the distance the Montreal skyline stood silent, observing, jealous of our discovery.
We went and sat in the grassy area surrounding the sculpture, the music still audible but muffled slightly by the trees that obscured our view of the crowds. Across the lake, in front of us, a small waterfall poured into the pool which reflected the green and the sky. Around us, people smoked pot and drank out of wine sacks, tore pieces of baguettes produced from backpacks. I sat up on my elbow, the grass staining my shirt, and tried to remember everything, exactly how it was at that exact moment.
How do I keep finding myself in these moments with you?
STEP 3: Recognize The Great Moments In Life When They Happen. Realize That We Cannot Do This Alone. We Are All In This Together...
montreal in the distance
the party
waterfalls and music
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