Now I use the term 'meet' loosely. I haven't shaken anyone's hand or spoken to one of these people about politics or religion or any of those taboo subjects or anything like that. But I've seen these characters so often that I've started to understand them a bit, or at least I've become accustomed to their habits.
Here are some of my favourites:
Cafe Vienna, on St. Catherine's and St. Hubert, which is pretty much right in the heart of Montreal's 'Red Light District' -- and a scant two blocks from where I set my dome piece into my pillow each night -- has possibly the two most unique characters I've seen thus far in the city.
Me and my homeboy Pabs, during bouts of laziness, used to head down to the cafe for a drink, sandwich and salad every so often, and nearly every time, we could count on seeing the sweaty man on a laptop. Now, I'm sure you're probably saying, there are plenty of sweaty people on laptops. I mean, it can get hot and people perspire. It happens. Well, I agree to a degree, except I believe what makes the man hot and bothered has nothing to do with the level of the thermostat, but instead with the content of what he views on his screen.
Each and every time he's there, he is youtubing male bodybuilding competitions. He sort of looks away from his screen nervously every once in a while and even gave Pabs an uncomfortable look one time, when we walked past.
The really interesting thing about this guy though is not only does he spend hours on end watching these competitions, but every few minutes, he pulls out his... camera (you thought I was going to say something else, didn't you?) and takes pictures of the dudes on the screen. He then puts the camera away again. What's going on there? It doesn't even make sense.
Come on, that's a little kooky.
Then, usually seated two tables away from him, right beside the counter, is this beat-down looking guy with Anderson Varejao hair and tinted glasses, with a baby blue briefcase full of knick-knacks, which stays open all day, while he stares off into space cooly, in his long overcoat. The briefcase is full of all sorts of little every day things like lighters and sunglasses.
I've spent hours at a time writing up cover letters and such in that cafe and I honestly can say I've never once seen anyone approach him to buy something. The lady who runs the cafe, by the way, doesn't kick him out for some reason -- like she does everyone else -- and she instead holes herself at the back of the establishment in front of a computer, sometimes oblivious for five minutes as a customer waits confused at the counter for her help.
On that tangent: I am convinced that lady will either kill someone or be killed herself this year. I made that my bold prediction for 2010. Each hour I'm there, she throws out a drunk or an addict or some raving lunatic for loitering or swearing loudly or for passing out in a booth, and she's gotten very good at it. Sometimes these people return and then get kicked out again and then return and the confrontations escalate. I once bought this morphine addict a coffee back in October, and she told me she once threw a bunch of papers and a cup at the lady. When I bought her the coffee, the Mighty Morphine Addict Stranger tried to apologize to the counter lady.
L'Escalier had a few beauties today, too.
One guy, as Soumi pointed out, sat at a table in front of a briefcase of sunglasses and tried each pair on, one-by-one, holding a mirror up to view how they looked and then made flustered faces after each pair. There were only about six pairs in the case, but he must have tried on 30 sets, unable to make up his mind.
As this was happening, a bald guy periodically walked from his seat in the corner of the apartment-style cafe to the counter. He had a straw stuffed into his nose. When I got up to get a coffee, I watched him pick up the sugar shaker and dump a little lump of it into his palm. He then took his straw and walked to the corner seat. I returned to my seat and watched him snort the sugar up his nose, through the straw.
I wonder if he's trying to stop doing drugs and this act was like the smoker who needs something in their mouth at all times because they miss that part of their habit as well.
Anyways, this Montreal is not short on characters and it's no surprise that I'm really starting to fall for this city. Things have also started to pick up for me a bit and I guess you can attribute the decreased bloginess to the increased business.
Plus, I'm mourning the death of the Jersey Shore and simultaneously celebrating the magic of the Sedin brothers. I'll try to write a post about the Twins later this week.
Later gators and cross your fingers for old Biberous, who had a job interview today, and his sister, who left the continent tonight to go live Down Under for a while.
Love ya, Haze. Soak it up.
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