Painting Montreal Pink

Back in October, a good friend of mine from New Brunswick called me up and asked if I'd go to a concert with her in March.

Sure, I remarked, blithely confident that it would be fine.

When she reminded me of this a few weeks ago, I did one of those hand waves, where you assure someone something is no problem even though you have absolutely no idea if this is in fact true or not. 

Montreal is not far from my house. (You have my permission to be jealous.) I can be at the shops of the west island in under 30 minutes, and downtown is a lovely little jaunt away by train.

Then I looked at the date. And realized the concert was on a Tuesday night.

I mean really....any other night of the week I could have gone into Montreal on the afternoon train, had dinner, gone to the concert, stayed at the Delta Centreville, and caught the morning train home again.

But on Tuesday, I have class until 5:30. And on Wednesday morning, I teach at 8:30 am. The train was out.

Regardless, I did go into Montreal. We did go and see Pink, a concert that was musically, thematically, and creatively absorbing. I loved it. And I did get to stay over, albeit with a very early start navigating the streets of Montreal at dawn.

We missed dinner because I got there late, and by the time the concert was over and we got out the doors it was after 11pm, and even the Keg had finished serving meals. Probably could have found somewhere, but wasn't sure where to look, and was disinclined to spend too much time wandering aimlessly that time of night.

But it was a great evening. Wonderful to catch up with Julie again. Wonderful to see a concert that seemed fresh and invigorating. Wonderful to be...for a moment at least...cool in the eyes of my students who hardly believed me when I told them where I was going.