July 6, Montreal

July 6

Tuesday Morning in the real world. In my world it is long drive, no ticket and no hotel day. I was unsuccessful in my attempts to hijack and further corrupt my Canadian friend, who had the law on her side. I of course was planning on breaking several, and try not to get caught. Secure in my position with the organization I was not following around; I stayed in a private home, and did not make a comfort laden journey on to the next destination. I can not be threatened with loss of financial rewards for my efforts, as I am unofficial, and totally here on a voluntary status, and I can come and go as I please, and it pleased me to continue my efforts at driving all the paved roads in North America. I used the magic of the internet to fine a place to stay for the night, in walking distance from the well advertised International Montreal Jazz Festival. I was unsure why some of us were invited to a Jazz Festival, as were many others, but If they call, we will go.
I had a nice meal packed for me, and It was needed, as it turns out, as the journey was neither easy or short. The first few hundred kilometers went smooth, I missed most of the Toronto congestion, and drove at a pleasant 123kph. I really liked seeing the 123 part on my dash readout, but the 109K miles on the odometer was disheartening, as that was done over the past three years, and today is my Sturdy Gerties third birthday, and she is off to get to the promised concerts. I fill up with 29 litres of petrol, and do not plan to stop and stretch until I get to my destination. Somewhere outside of Kingston, the 401 is closed, and they detour us off the highway, and onto back roads. The official signage leads me one way, but the local radio station tells me to go another way. I stick with the official signage, and soon regret it. I was trapped on a small barely paved road near a junk yard, and a family of exotically dressed members, sitting and eating, and using a port-o-san potty by the side of the road, next to their parked camper van. I tried to avert my eye, but as luck would have it, the traffic was moving at the speed of 3, and my attention was needed, I had to look at that curve in the road, and watch grown women and men, sit, squat, and do number two. EWWW. My trusty GPS wants to lead me back to the ramp that we were diverted off, and I had to ignore him, and carry on, following the truckers, as they also diverted away from the signed detour, and followed the radio instructions. We got to another intersection, where there was a patrol car, and a sign warning that no trucks were to go down this street. I left my trucker friends, and ignored my GPS<, who had finally given up leading me back, and was urging me onwards, and I followed my nose. Onto a less then paved road, over a manned set of locks, and thru a troupe of boy scouts, and past farms, cows, goats, and summer cottages, and right to the 401 again. No one was getting onto the ramp, but there was no one stopping me either, so I entered, and got myself back up to speed, florious speed. It was now past my original arrival time, and I still had a distance to drive, and a room to check into, and a venue to find and a ticket to procure, not to mention that I was hot and sticky and hungry, and then I remembered my bagged lunch, I set the cruise control, and ate for the next 100 k.
Quebec awaits me. I now know I am in a foreign country, and the lovely bilingual signs all over Toronto have disappeared, and everything is in one tongue, the tongue of the Franks. I am glad that I know what ferme, arret, sortie, and poussez mean, as I could follow along the rest. I expected to arrive long before the evening commute began, but I plodded along, and turned down the road to my hotel, also a French word, and was surprised to see all the roads blocked off for the festival, I had to ignore my GPS again, and wind around the hills of the royal Mount, and check into my hotel. Next to a Halal butcher, and a fire station. After finding out that parking was a few blocks away, and looking at the clock, I had a serious talk with myself. Should I even bother to go? My answe surprised me, I wasthouroughly scolded by myself for even driving here, all that traffic, the expense etc, and now I needed cash for a ticket. What was I thinking?

I got dressed and went to the Festival.

Ice cream, face painting, lovely sitting areas, food, a full festival, but where were all the people going to see Band? There were rare few going into the doors to the venue, and none looking to sell and extra ticket. Now what, no people in the venue and the best fan left outside in the heat.

I walked around, down a flight of stairs, and voila the billeterie. And crowds of folk entering through the air conditioned and sheltered entrance by the Metro station.

This is what an argument with yourself can do, it can remove all my evil conniving and sneaky thought processes, that which allow me to ferret out all I need to know, and replaces it with common sense, that said to stand by the main door.

I met a nice local fellow named Vincent, gave him American Money for his extra ticket, and went in, sat down, and waited. A 7:30 pm show, with no intermission, as I translated from the sign in the lobby. I had an idea what would be skipped, and was only happy about one song, the others I like, at least enough to travel to strange countries, use funny money, eat odd foods, and absorb culture.

The Show was Fabulous, even better than the night before, which is hard to believe, without me in the front row. I think they knew I was there, though, they played all the songs they do just for me.

The tall one with the red guitar put in a lot of effort, lots of guitar faces, right knee bending, right thigh thrusting of said red guitar, and I thought he was going to go to his knees during Question, like in days of old.

The curly one also did a lot of stage strutting, thrusting and bouncing around, and that old fellow in the back put a lot into his performance as well.

Lots of little subtle extra twiddly bits in the guitar solos, a blistering one during TDWMA, and Singer, and one felt the teen angst during NIWS, really, a perfect perfect perfect show.

Omitted were
LOMT
NCTD
Driftwood
TOSOL was included.

Standout songs
TDWMA
Gypsy, without the blackout, just a red background,, very hot looking

NIWS, I really believed every word of it, up there, top 10 versions ever heard by me

Question

RMSS the crowd finally got on it’s feet.

Overheard talk in the lobby was that this was the performance of the Festival. Cool. I will tell the Band when I have the chance.

Met up with the few otheres of US that were there, at least those of US who know who we are, had drinks, and saw the tail end of the fire works after the festival, and I walked back to my Hotel, with my bad right knee complaining all the time, as It popped out somewhere between YWD and ILS, which might explain the tears in my eyes during that song.

The old fellow says it is still all about Sex and drugs and Rock and Roll, so I took drugs, after the rock and roll, the rest will have to wait.