Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal, Quebec - Part 4

Part 4 – Monday, April 11th

I woke up to the sound of rain hitting against my window. I fell back asleep and then awoke to a rather loud buzzing/vibrating sound, like when a bus parks outside and goes into hibernation mode. I guess people just don’t sleep at the Days Inn Centreville. Well, at least, people don’t sleep on the lower level floors. Or, maybe it’s just me…who knows.

All three mornings I woke up feeling like I had a hangover and yet I hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol. It just goes to show how much sweating I did at the venue each night. It took about an hour for my water intake to start to balance out again and then, shortly after that, I had coffee. Yeah, go figure.

I looked up alternate Delta flights online, just in case there was a chance of taking an earlier flight out. I was then reminded of how I ended up with this late flight in the first place…it’s one of only two non-stop flights to MSP with the other leaving too early in the morning for my taste. It appeared I was stuck with leaving at 6pm.

I wasn’t feeling the greatest, still experiencing that faux hangover feeling. Still, I didn’t want to sit around in the hotel lobby, Starbucks, or the airport for multiple hours. No, instead I decided to hoof it, as they say, once again towards the Basilique Notre Dame, the only other sight that I really had my heart set on seeing this time around. This meant venturing down from my hotel towards Vieux Montreal, the old original city area, a place I hadn’t yet ventured in to.

I feared that it would be yet another long walk that would completely tire me out. Instead, I actually got sort of rejuvenated by the walk and came alive more and more as I started to inch toward the old city. The weather was supposed to be 70 degrees but it looked much more like rain with a fierce wind blowing. I’d say the temperature was closer to 50 degrees when I left the hotel.

The Basilique Notre Dame

I found the Basilique Notre Dame and it was practically right next to Starbucks. It’s never a bad idea to know where the nearest Starbucks is after all, especially if it starts raining. I walked around the outside of the Basilique and was quite impressed. I wasn’t sure if it was “open”, per se, since the place was completely deserted. I then decided to try the door and voila! It opened! And so, I ventured in to find an older man sitting behind a counter reading a book, expecting payment. I paid the $5 admission fee and he politely said in a massive French accent, “…pictures okay…”. Ah, good to know!

The exterior of the Basilique was pretty impressive; the inside was even more grand. It was completely on par with the cathedrals that I had seen in England. This was definitely worth the price of admission and I ended up taking lots of my usual weird angle shots.

The inside of the Basilique Notre Dame

After leaving, I decided to walk around Old Montreal a bit more and perhaps find where the river runs along the port. The more I walked the more fascinated I became. Wow. It wasn’t long before I realized my biggest error of both trips to Montreal…not coming to freakin’ Old Montreal! Ugh! This was right up my alley and here I’ve spent both of my trips amongst 10 million college students, rushing around back and forth on the metro and surrounded with cigarette smoke!

Yes, here were all the adults! I HAD been wondering, after all, since practically everyone I passed was between the ages of 18 and 25. This was also evidently the area where all the good restaurants were. F***! No, make that a double! Here, I’ve eaten at all these goofy locations (minus Aux Vivres, which was quite awesome) when I could have been eating in REAL restaurants just a half mile from my stupid hotel! Ah, yes, my friends…the egg was on my face (no pun intended for you breakfast lovers).

A random street in Vieux Montreal

I continued my walk, looking at the various sights, taking weird pictures, and reading the various menus that I came across. Yes, I really had missed out. Sh*t, now I HAD to come back. If I do return, I most definitely will be spending my whole trip down in that area.

It was then that it started to rain (again). It just seemed to be my luck, really. At first, it wasn’t a big deal, just more or less the moderate drizzle from the day before. Then, it started to pick up and I started to notice the rain falling in streams off my hat. It was time to head back to the Starbuck’s for awhile. See what I mean? Always find a sanctuary, whatever sort you prefer.

A port at Vieux Montreal

No sooner did I enter Starbuck’s, order, sit down, etc., but the rain stopped and a bright yellow sun filled the sky. I truly felt that Montreal was somehow laughing at me but I’m usually a semi-decent sport. Heck, I laugh at myself all the time.

I ordered a very small dessert thing that looked interesting. The girl that took my order said, “Oh, you want the whoopee pie?” I looked at her with a silly look. “I don’t know…do I?! I guess I do!” I really wanted to make a crass joke but feared it wouldn't come out right so I kept it at that. The dessert basically consisted of what looked like two red velvet cookies with icing in the middle. After picking it up and eating it, it stained my fingers and napkin lipstick red. I became paranoid that my lips were now lipsticked as well. I decided to go to the restroom, just to make sure.

Another street view around Vieux Montreal

I debated about going to Chez Suzette, a crepe place that was supposed to be pretty good that I just happened to pass by unsuspectingly. I looked at the menu and it certainly sounded great. Why couldn’t I have found this place two days ago? I wondered if I should go in and eat rather than waiting to eat at the airport. It had only been a few hours since I had breakfast, though, so it would end up being more of a force feeding, if you know what I mean. But heck, the food was bound to be a million times better than the airport. I pondered but then resisted. Instead, I returned to the hotel, collected my suitcase, and headed off to the bus stop for the 747 Express bus.

When the bus arrived, I promptly boarded and swiped my card, all the time hoping my STM pass would still work (which it did), and walked two steps to the luggage rack. The bus driver immediately made a rocket start and I almost fell three rows down the aisle. Apparently he was in a major hurry.

The bus ride was incredible (again). If the metro doesn’t make you sick to your stomach, the bus most certainly will. I’m not sure where these drivers get their driving instruction but man, they simply must be instructed to drive as erratically as possible. The extremely rough pot-holed roads didn’t help either. Had I eaten at Chez Suzette, there would have been no guarantee that I would have been able to hold it down.

At one point, a young girl got on the bus and sat directly across from me. She had a mostly eaten apple in her mouth…not being held by a hand, mind you…just her mouth, kind of like a pig at a pig roast, but for some reason she looked more like a fish to me because of the way her eyes were bugging out. She held it in her mouth for at least 3 minutes, never making any gesture to grab it, all the while staring around with big eyes over the core at the people around her as if we were the ones with the apples in our mouths. I must say that in all my years I’ve never seen anyone do this before and I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid or laugh hysterically. Once she took the apple out, she took the last few bites of it and then promptly fell asleep. Bizarre!

It was then that the guy next to me started asking me questions in French. I tried to make it clear that I didn’t speak French and that just seemed to make him ask even more questions. On top of that, he started getting mildly angry. I was completely thrown off. Luckily, another guy stepped in to the one sided conversation and cleared things up.

Back at the airport, it was the usual hokey pokey trying to get through security. In Canada, you have to go through multiple check points for some reason and then you actually go through US Customs at the same time prior to boarding the plane. I never can understand why they make us hold so many different items and expect us not to lose anything. Mind you, you’re already holding your suitcase, probably a carry-on, and then you’ve got your passport, your customs form, your boarding pass, etc. It’s pretty freakin’ crazy.

In the customs line, there was a rather large recreation of the Statue of Liberty which made me giggle. It seemed kind of silly, like we needed a reminder that that’s where the statue was located. I couldn’t help but jokingly wonder why they didn’t have something like that on the US side for Canadian departures. Imagine a large moose beckoning you or some Canadian Mounted Policeman.

My dinner choices were as I expected: very slim. I had only $9 Canadian left and so that even further limited my options. Believe it or not, I went to Burger King for a BK Veggie meal. Bad choice! There was literally nobody there and only one woman working the registers. She was clearly upset about something having to do with work and I heard her yelling something about “…HR expects me to wear…!” When I walked up, she didn’t even acknowledge me. I ordered and she practically threw my drink cup at me. Motioning to her left, she said rather abruptly, “The soda fountain’s over there.” Yikes! Just think what they did to my food!

That left me with literally just change in my pocket in Canadian money. I went to the Currency Exchange and asked if he had a minimum. He said, “Let me see what you’ve got and I’ll tell you.” I laid out what amounted to about 85 cents. “No, no, there’s a five dollar minimum,” he barked. Maybe I was delirious but I would have sworn that was exactly what I had just asked him. “If you don’t want it, there’s a donation box over there,” he said, pointing down the hallway. And so, I donated my change to a cause that I couldn’t read since it was only in French. Hopefully it was something I agree with!

I sat down and waited to board my plane. Just then, who shows up and sits practically right next to me? Yes, it’s the Sasquatch guy from the previous night’s show. Apparently he lives in Minneapolis as well. I couldn’t help but think of those “Messin’ with Sasquatch” commercials for Jack Link’s Beef Jerky. I briefly debated about talking to him but every time I tried to catch his attention, he seemed to be looking away or right through me. He also seemed mildly annoyed and, well, it’s best not to tick off Sasquatch, based especially on those commercials.

After that, it was the usual flight home. You know, cramped seating, germ filled air, numb butt, you name it.

It was, again, one heck of a weekend, in one sort or another. It seemed like a really long weekend, actually, and it completely exhausted me in more ways than one. What can I say? Marillion are always amazing and they were nothing short this year, even if the crowd wasn’t always the greatest. As for Montreal, it really is a pretty interesting town that I do recommend visiting. If I do return, I hope to maybe finally eat at the right restaurants in the right part of town. Heck, third time’s a charm, right?

Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal, Quebec - Part 3

Part 3 – Sunday, April 10th

I woke up way too early the next morning to the sound of what I believed to be pounding feet on most likely stairs. Strangely, I couldn’t find a stairwell anywhere but that’s certainly what it sounded like. It sounded like a few kids running up and down on the stairs, making sure to firmly pound their feet on each step as they went. It was a fantastic way to awake (sarcasm, of course).

As usual, once I’m awake, I’m, well, pretty much awake. I tried to resist getting up but it wasn’t happening. And so, I got up, showered, dressed, and headed out for breakfast relatively close to an actual breakfast time which is a rarity for me.

Out in the street, I once again headed off to the nearest metro station. Every time I ventured to the metro it seemed to get further and further away. I passed, as usual, countless people outside smoking, some which looked like they were about to keel over at any moment. One thing I can definitely say about Montreal…they need a serious ‘stop smoking’ campaign.

I had decided to try breakfast at a restaurant called Burgers and Benedicts, a place that I had passed the previous day on my way out from the AMC Theater. I couldn’t resist since I’m a bit of a benedict fanatic. Like everything thus far, it was a bit of a haul to get there but, seriously, what can you do, right?

Upon arriving, the place was fairly deserted which was certainly fine by me. My breakfast ended up being quite nice. I ordered the weekend special which was a benedict of 2 eggs over avocado on, of all things, French toast. It had a mixture of flavors that really didn’t go together at all…and yet somehow they came back around to create a pleasing flavor. Their coffee ended up being about the strongest coffee I’ve ever had in my life, so much so that I stopped after two cups. I like strong coffee but this was a bit extraordinary.

After paying for breakfast, I decided to take the metro quite a ways in the opposite direction in order to see Parc Olympique. This location has a few “famous” landmarks including the Botanical Gardens, the Biodome, etc. After exiting the metro, I was a bit confused since it basically dumped us in a completely deserted chamber. A few other people got off the metro as well and so I simply decided to follow them. It was quite bizarre. We were walking through this area that had nothing but old run down looking concrete in all directions. We finally reached a door and then began a trek outside, still encapsulated more or less with concrete all around us. At times, it looked like we were walking through a service area, or perhaps a backstage sort of area where you’d usually see roadies loading and unloading gear…except there was no one in sight. I had serious doubts if we were walking in the right direction.


Parc Olympique (notice the cable car ride)

We finally made a turn and, sure enough, there’s the Biodome, shoved in the middle of this concrete. It seemed a bit ironic, really. There were finally other people around as well including quite a few screaming kids running in all directions. I briefly looked through the windows of the Biodome and decided to pass on going in. Instead, I figured I’d do something free, like walking through the botanical gardens.

Getting to the gardens was just as weird. There were a few concrete barriers setup that I had to walk through. Again, it looked like an area where only people with a “pass” would be allowed. There was even a guard sitting in a little booth. He looked at me as I passed by but didn’t ask any questions nor did he attempt to stop me. I could only guess that I was headed in the right direction.

...Part of the Japanese Pavillion at the Botanical Gardens

It was a rather steep hill but I eventually arrived outside a gate to what I believed to be the Botanical Gardens. The gate, however, was open. Hmm. I waited a bit for someone else to walk through first. I eventually deduced that it was okay although I was under the impression that there was a nominal fee for touring the gardens.

Walking around the grounds was nice but nothing was really growing yet since it was still rather cold outside. There were also patches of snow still on the ground, the last remnants of a fairly harsh winter. I was particularly fascinated by the Japanese garden/pavilion area and ended up taking quite a few pictures there.

I stayed perhaps a little over a half hour and then made my way back down the long bizarre concrete path to the metro station. At this point, I was getting pretty exhausted again from all of the walking. I boarded the metro and rode it back to the usual Berri-UQAM station. I exited the metro, flashed my metro pass through the turnstyle, and to my complete amazement…I was standing in front of a small Dunkin Donuts shop. Um..where did this come from?! Now, a bit of history here… I’ve had this thing for Dunkin Donuts for quite some time and since there are none in Minnesota, it’s sort of become a bit blown out of proportion. Still, last time I was in Montreal, I specifically searched for a DD and there were none. On top of that, I’d been in this metro station countless times on this trip and had never seen it. It was like it had materialized out of nowhere! I was completely dumbfounded! Unfortunately, I wasn’t even the least bit hungry.

I went back to my hotel and simply veg’d for awhile. It wasn’t long before the clock was approaching 2pm and so I ventured out once again, this time for the Marillion “day session”. This was the first time that Marillion decided to do some sort of free day session consisting of things like Q&A with the band, “swap the band”, etc. It sounded interesting enough and so I couldn’t resist.

I was really quite impressed with how many people showed up. In my rough estimate, I’d have to say that 50% of the “normal” audience was there. The day session was really quite extraordinary and gave me a glimpse of the band in a way that I had not seen before. There were also a few contests held for some of the banner artwork that displayed in the theater and the winners were allowed to come on stage, briefly meet the band, and then have their pictures taken with the band with the audience cheering behind them. Unfortunately, there were a bunch of guys, presumably from France, holding up a “The Web France” banner (“The Web” is an old Marillion song that became the name of the various Marillion fan clubs around the world) that pretty much blocked out everyone behind them from the shots, of which I was one of them.

There were also two people whose birthdays happened to be on that very day and so the band invited them to come up and get their pictures taken as well. Pretty cool stuff!

The real “coolness”, though, was the “swap the band” session. I believe this contest was held online earlier in the year, where Marillion fans were invited to send in some sort of demo of them posing as any one of the band members of Marillion by playing/singing any song they wish. The winners were then invited to the convention and asked to perform their chosen song live on stage! I mean, how incredibly cool is that? There was a young guy who played guitar on the song “Kayleigh” while, bizarrely enough, a young girl named Kayleigh sang it. Later on, yet another girl named Kayleigh sang the track “Afraid of Sunlight”. She was incredibly in to it and clearly really loving the audience’s reaction, so much so that she got a bit American Idol on us.

One of the best parts was listening to the various band members trying to read the handwritten names of people on index cards. Pete, the bassist, tried to read one extremely French name: “Um…it’s..um…Serge somebody…?” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. “I’m sorry…um…Serge…wherever you are!”

During the Q&A portion, someone had asked the question, “Why Montreal?” H handled this question. “I’m assuming you’re meaning why have the North American convention here versus the USA…” He went on to explain how Montreal has always had a special vibe for the band which he’s stated before. He also added, though, how the US has made it both time consuming and expensive when trying to get a visa, and how it’s hard to justify. He ended by saying, “So, for the Americans in the audience…you may want to tell your elected officials to lighten up the restrictions since it’s turning many people away from touring there.” It was slightly harsh but, alas, very true. I’ve seen firsthand how the number of non-US resident tours has gone done greatly since 2001 and it’s been quite unfortunate.

The good news, though, was that H added that a US tour was indeed already in the works for the next album and, in his words, “…would be happening within the next 14 months.” So, all you US Marillion fans out there, start preparing now since this could be your last chance!

Marillion during the 'Swap the Band' session

The day session in general really was quite amazing. I know I keep saying this over and over but there’s simply no other band out there like this one. You really can’t help but love them. They are true role models for what other artists should be when it comes to their fans.

Here are the songs that were played during the “swap the band” portion:

Kayleigh (sung by Kayleigh #1)
The Party
Cover My Eyes
Afraid of Sunlight (sung by Kayleigh #2)

After the session was over, on the way out of the venue, I passed a guy in the street who was gently singing “Afraid of Sunlight” to himself with a rather thick French accent. It both warmed my heart and made me slightly giggle at the same time. Music really does bring people together.

I trekked back again to the hotel. I flipped on the TV, hoping to find something to watch for a little while. The best I could find was “Jaws” in French. I don’t know but something was just lost in the translation, I think.

I started preparing mentally for dinner, meaning where I was going to eat, etc. After a bit of thinking, I decided upon Aux Vivres (http://www.auxvivres.com/en/home/), a seemingly well known place billed as the “original” vegan restaurant of Montreal which, of course, was quite a ways from my hotel. Walking a ton more was the last thing I wanted to do but there really wasn’t much of an alternative. And so, I set off again to the metro station.

After a short ride, I exited the metro and started my walk through a nice hip looking neighborhood in search of the restaurant. I barely got a few blocks into it and it started to lightly rain. By the time I reached the café, it was just starting to rain pretty hard, enough to soak my hat very thoroughly.

Inside, Aux Vivres was pretty close to fully packed. I couldn’t believe how busy the restaurant was. The place was clearly popular! I looked over the menu and while it wasn’t exactly a glamorous selection of food, it was definitely a large one with tons of variety. There were tons of sandwich-like options to choose from and it made it a bit difficult to actually come to a decision.

The food was excellent! I ended up having a Mekong sandwich on chapatti that was simply a burst of flavor to my taste buds. I also had a Bombay Banana smoothie and some sort of soup that I can’t remember. Overall, it was absolutely the best food I had eaten in Montreal. It was obvious why the place was so packed. I was also extremely impressed by the wide variety of people who were eating there. Usually, you think of vegans as a particular type of hipster but there were entire families with little kids, older adults, etc., all seemingly enjoying the food.

Upon paying my bill, I had a hard time getting out the door since the place was even more crowded now than previously with many people waiting for a table. I made my way out the door and back in to the rain which had now thankfully lightened up. Upon walking back to the metro station, I debated…do I really dare? I thought about it and then figured what the heck.

I started making my way out to a small dessert café called, ironically, Calories, which I had visited on my previous trip. Calories is way on the other end of town, again, kind of back by where I had breakfast. The worst thing about this café is that you do have to walk outside a bit to get there and it’s kind of a drag in the rain.

I can’t say for sure but it looked like the café had changed owners. None of the cheesecake selections really appealed to me but, well, I was there and figured I needed to get something. I settled upon a slice of the turtle cheesecake and a coffee. Thankfully, the coffee was much lighter than what I had at the beginning of the day at Burgers and Benedicts. The cheesecake, though, was of the soft kind, almost with a texture not unlike firm whipped cream, and all I could really taste was a ton of sugar and no real actual flavor. Needless to say, it wasn’t my favorite. I prefer traditional plain hard cheesecake which they seem to advertise in their picture and yet haven’t had either time I’ve been there. I think next time I think I’ll try elsewhere and hopefully closer!

I once again returned to my hotel completely and totally exhausted. I got back a bit later than was I expecting and it left me only one hour until the evening’s performance. I couldn’t help but wonder how I would ever make it through. The previous night had so much energy that I didn’t think I could ever get to that point again!

3rd Show

Well, it became a non-issue of sorts. It was during this third and last performance that my luck finally completely ran out. It ended up being a pretty lame evening for me, much, much worse than the first show, and pretty much the entire show was ruined by audience members around me. The idiot quotient in the venue seemed to be at an all time high that evening.

I’m sure Marillion themselves were fantastic as always, of course, but I wouldn’t know since no matter who I stood near, they apparently seemed more in to holding a loud conversation rather than watching or listening to the band. It was quite maddening. I moved multiple times throughout the audience but there wasn’t much room to be had so I ended up drifting back and forth between four different spots. Three were filled with constant talkers and laughers; one had a guy I dubbed as Sasquatch, someone so tall that I couldn’t see a blasted thing around his head and hair. Worse yet, there was a younger kid with an upright brimmed baseball hat right behind him who was also fairly tall and insisted on waving his head from side to side so that his head acted like a pendulum to the bigger/hairier Sasquatch, completely blocking my few every few seconds, first left, then right, and so on. Some show!

Something very unfortunate happened pretty early on in the show. During the “Mad” portion of “Goodbye to All That”, H was holding a small crystal ball in his hands on stage. He suddenly decided to chuck it into the audience, which immediately seemed like a big mistake in my eyes, and of course the audience members started hitting it around as if it was a beachball. Well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. Now, mind you, this was a small mirrorball, probably with a hollow or styrofoam center so that it was fairly light, but it still had the mirrors on the outside so at least the outer core was fairly solid and potentially sharp. I kept my eye on the thing, fearing an accident was about to happen and I can sometimes be a magnet for such a thing. Sure enough, someone punched the tiny mirrorball way up into the air and it fell and hit some poor unsuspecting guy on the other side of the venue a couple feet in front of me. It hit him with a terrible smack on the side of the head and he bent over, in obvious pain, holding his right ear for a very long time. People started asking him if he was okay and he simply kept holding his ear. I couldn’t hear him but I think he asked the guy next to him if there was any blood, which there didn’t appear to be. I think, with the way the ball hit him, that it might have either affected his hearing for awhile or perhaps it could have fractured the cartilage in his ear. I’m not sure but I felt very sorry for the guy who didn’t even see the thing coming at him. It was a really poor choice of H to toss the ball into the audience. Hopefully, lesson learned.

Marillion played again for about 3 hours. They played a great set too, filled with some songs that I had always wanted to hear live. It was too bad that the sound of talking overpowered the songs. Ugh.

The theme of the evening was “the Glo must Go On”. This ended up meaning that we were all handed Glo Sticks on our way in, and the idea was that the audience was to vote between two different songs for which they preferred to hear. The band would then take a quick count of people holding up sticks and then play the appropriate song. It was quite a cool idea. Eventually, when the band posed a really hard choice between two songs that everyone wanted to hear, a chant began of “Both! Both! Both!!!” The whole place more or less rang out in protest, wanting to hear both tracks. In the end, they caved in on at least one of them.

Yet another cool photo of Marillion hard at work...

There were a couple of flubs in the show. During “Estonia”, a true fan favorite, Steve Rothery’s guitar refused to work and the majority of the song went without him while he frantically tried to communicate with his guitar tech.

Also, before “Easter”, H told the story of how they first played the song as a band. H had apparently just joined the band and had the main body of the song more or less already written out. He had pointed out how the middle of the track needed something in it and thought Steve Rothery could maybe play something during that part. Supposedly, the very first time they ran through the track as a band, Rothery played the solo that was eventually recorded almost verbatim. In the words of H with the usual English accent, “…so yeah, Rothery literally blew it out of his ass…” Rothery’s eyes widened as he glanced over at H, clearly mouthing a “What?!!” and smiling just the same.

Here’s the set list to the best of my memory. I’m sure there are errors here, considering the circumstances, so, as usual, don’t take it verbatim:

Goodbye to All That
Hard as Love (more or less the Less is More version)
Afraid of Sunlight
One Fine Day
Beyond You
Go!
Brave
Estonia
Between You and Me
Ocean Cloud
Happiness is the Road

Neverland

The Great Escape
Easter

This Strange Engine

The band actually closed with “Easter” and I thought they were most certainly done for the night. Everyone was heading out of the theater when they decided to come back and start into “This Strange Engine”. I decided to simply stand way in the back by the soundboard and listen/watch uninterrupted. It was lame being that far back but it had been even more lame being up close. Sigh.

With that, I returned to my hotel room and did my best not to brood about it too much. You win some, you lose some, and this was clearly a loss.

Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal, Quebec - Part 2

Part 2 – Saturday, April 9th

I awoke the next morning to the sound of something pounding. In a bit of a daze, I started to come around to what one might call consciousness. It was then that I realized that someone was rapping on my door very persistently.

I managed to yell out a garbled, “What?!” The answer came back in French, of course, and I could only assume that it was someone there to do the housekeeping. I answered with a loud and slightly annoyed “No thank you!” With that, the person went away.

I tried to fall back asleep but that just didn't seem possible. It was pretty bright in the room and now I was wide awake due to all the housekeeping drumming on my door. And so, I gave up and decided to start the day.

As I got out of bed I realized just how dehydrated I was. This was bad news since I wanted coffee at the same time which ultimately dehydrates you even more.

I whipped out my laptop and found the nearest Starbucks. It wasn’t exactly near, mind you, but not entirely far either. It was within walking distance but a bit of a hike, just the same. I cleaned myself up and ventured out in search of it.

Venturing up Rue St. Denis, I walked through an area that I had never been before filled with all sorts of little restaurants, shops...you name it. I glanced at a few menus but nothing really seemed to be terribly extraordinary, although you never know until you try it.

I finally found Starbucks. The walk seemed farther than I thought and I was definitely ready for some liquids. I went up to the door and nearly walked into it when it didn’t open. I pulled at the door a couple times and it was locked. Hmm… Yes, there was another door around the corner! There were a bunch of people sitting outside watching me trying to get through a locked door with the usual look of confusion.

I grabbed a big bottle of water and ordered a medium coffee. The transaction was fairly painless although I was shocked when my coffee came to me without a lid. I made a silent deduction but figured I'd ask just the same. “Are the lids over there?” I asked, pointing towards the small counter where the creamer and stirrers are, pretty much already knowing the answer. The girl behind the counter shook her head, more or less wondering how I didn’t already know that.

These signs were all over the city.  I found them kind of amusing.

From here, next on my list was to find an ATM. The only one I knew precisely where it was located was back by the restaurant that I had skipped out on the previous evening. I walked over in that direction, passing various people standing around, talking, and doing other odd things that I was unsure about, and did my best to sip both coffee and water in turn.

I found the sign to the bank but couldn’t find the actual door. All I found was a strange little ramp that looked like it led up to a service entrance. Sure enough, that ended up being the door to the bank.

I went up to the ATM, hoping it would be in English, which it was, and proceeded to withdraw some much needed cash. When the transaction was done, the machine thanked me and never spit out a receipt. Ugh.

It was around noon time at this point and I was getting pretty hungry. I always get a bit anxious going into the metro the first time, even though I’ve done it countless times before. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps I have metro-a-phobia, who knows. I just kept telling myself, “Don’t fear the metro. Don’t fear the metro.” It became my momentary mantra.

There really is nothing to fear about the metro except, as always, the fear of looking like a total idiot when you’re not used to how to do things. I’ve learned in my modest travels to different countries that, in order to travel successfully, you just need to accept that you WILL indeed look like an idiot for awhile until you get acquainted with things. And, of course, somebody like myself just seems to be a magnet for looking like an idiot.

This particular metro station has a very long walkway that curves around a few times. I passed a busker that was singing some terrible song. I considered paying him so that he’d stop but figured that wouldn’t translate correctly.

Upon reaching the metro gates, I silently hoped that my 1 day pass still worked like it should. I approached the turnstyle and with my left hand swiped my transit pass. A bright green light went off and made a slighty pleasant beeping noise. Hurray! It worked! I walked forward to go through the turnstyle and quickly came to a dead halt; the turnstyle would not turn and was like running into a wall. I was confused…um…it glowed green…um… Here’s where that looking like an idiot thing that I mentioned comes in to play. I tried swiping my card again and quickly got a red light with a “you screwed up” sort of noise. I stood there a moment, thinking. Wait…maybe I need to pass through on the left side of the swiper! Maybe?! I repositioned myself and sure enough, that was the issue. I then looked around me and saw the usual small group of onlookers watching me in mild amusement and confusion.

The metro overall is a really funny place. There’s evidently an unspoken rule that while riding on a metro that you can’t ever smile nor make any sort of eye contact. Everyone sits in a total daze, staring at some non-existent object, and tries their best to look as unhappy as possible. Is this what mass transit is all about? I’m honestly not sure. It certainly does create some strange situations. If you’re a straight man and you make eye contact with a woman, you’re perceived as a potential pervert or predator; if you make eye contact with a man, you’re probably gay. If you’re a gay man and you make eye contact with a woman, you’re still potentially a pervert and a threat; if you make eye contact with a man, well, I’m not really sure what happens then. Either way, it’s probably best not to make eye contact period.

I had decided that I would journey out to a place called Maamm Bolduc that I found online listed as having the best poutine in Montreal. The place was only a couple metro stations out but then would be what I thought would be a short walk. They were listed as having a great breakfast but I wasn’t sure if I was up for eggs and such at this point since it was closer to 1pm.

The walk ended up being much further than I thought which seemed to be the flavor of the day. To make matters worse, it started to lightly drizzle and I kept hoping it wouldn't all out pour while I was stranded walking. The walk was mostly through a residential area and occasionally I passed various people on the sidewalk. I really wasn’t all that sure where I was going but I did occasionally glance at my map to make sure I was on the right track. I just couldn’t figure out how a restaurant would be located amongst a bunch of apartments and such.

At this point I was starving. My coffee was gone and quite a bit of my water was gone as well. Would I ever eat?

I finally found the restaurant, tucked in with a bunch of other various businesses and such. It was a small place on the ground floor of some sort of housing structure with a lot of tables in a small sized patio area. There were a few people simply standing around outside, looking on in total confusion, and I wasn’t exactly sure if they were in a line to be seated or what. I couldn’t find any actual organization nor did anyone from the restaurant ever come up to these people. I decided to take charge and simply walk inside.

I found a small table and had a seat. The place was pretty crammed and the next table was literally only about 3 inches from mine. I was also sitting right next to the cash register which provided a lot of noise and traffic.

The menu was huge. I’d have to guess that it had about 30 pages in it in book form. I kept going through it over and over, confused on what to order. Luckily, it was mostly in English.

My server finally arrived and I ordered a tofu dog. “We’re all out of those,” he said. Clearly he was in a hurry since he was only one of two servers in the place. “I do have veggie burgers.” I wasn’t really in the mood for a veggie burger but I just went with it. I also ordered the vegetarian poutine in the smaller petite size since it had been said that the larger size was enough for four people.

It took quite awhile to get the food and I did what I could to keep myself occupied. When the food finally arrived, the veggie burger looked more homemade than, say, a Gardenburger, and the poutine was extremely large for being a “petite”. The food was good, decent quality and all, but didn’t exactly knock me out or anything. I remain fairly neutral about poutine to this day.

Once I was done, I had the pleasure of making the walk back to the metro station. This wasn’t a totally bad idea since I was pretty full and needed to walk some of the food off anyhow.

By the time I got back to my hotel I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Wow! I do more walking in Montreal in a single weekend than I probably do in 6 months! Now, to be fair, I could actually ride the bus around town on the side streets but I really have an enormous phobia about buses. I just won’t go there unless I absolutely have to. Don’t ask me to explain it; I don’t get it either, really.

On the way in to my hotel I made a point to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign. I also asked the question that had been on my mind for awhile. “Are movies here in English or in French?” The answer was could be either and make sure you ask first which wasn’t very reassuring.

I should mention that two years previously I was having some sort of issue where I, well, couldn’t stop going to the restroom. This time around I seemed to be the opposite. Evidently, Montreal and my gastrointestinal system don’t get along very well.

I laid down on the bed and hoped to just veg awhile with some television. Only about 3 out of 30 channels were in English which quickly narrowed down my choices. I found a baseball game to watch but only half of the screen was displaying on my small 4:3 television. The picture was perfectly cut that I couldn’t even see the score.

It was then that it dawned on me that I had my laptop with me. Ah ha! I could stream Netflix! Hurray! I can watch whatever I want! I quickly logged in and went to the Netflix site just to get a large banner saying, “We notice that you’re currently in Canada. Netflix products cannot be streamed outside of the USA due to copyright reasons.” How deflating.

It was now around 3pm and I had quite a few hours to kill before the show that night. I had eaten my first meal late enough in the day that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to eat again before the show. Great planning on my part! So, what to do… I knew I didn’t want to walk and sightsee anymore. I couldn’t watch TV. And so, I decided to check the movie listings. I found an AMC Theatre that was right off the metro line and found that both “Of Gods and Men” and “Jane Eyre” were playing in about an hour’s time. Per the website, the former was subtitled in English and the latter was in English.

I was really quite exhausted but wasn’t sure if I could actually sleep. I debated and debated in my usual fashion. By the time I decided to go the movie, I was now running late and needed to get moving pretty quickly. Such is my life.

Once again, I was walking to the metro station, half in a daze. It was then that I realized that it really is much more important to choose a hotel that’s very close to the metro versus being close to the theater that Marillion performs at. A good mental note for next time, that is, if I do decide to come back.

I got off at the appropriate metro station and it started to look familiar. I had been here two years prior and remembered how confusing this station was. You basically get off in the heart of what looks like a shopping mall and trying to find your way out is a bit of a trick. I did the best thing I knew to do; follow the natives since they know the way.

I left the shopping mall area and crossed the street. I saw a huge sign saying AMC Theatres but couldn’t find the entrance at first. After sorting that out, once inside, it was quite strange. The movie was also just starting per my watch.

I purchased my ticket and it ended up being $13.50 Canadian! Yikes! I went through the little gate over to the concession stand. I ordered a medium popcorn and coke. The popcorn looked smaller than a small in the US. I guess we really are gluttonous in America.

The toppings are different as well. The primary toppings were liquid cheddar cheese, sour cream and onion, etc. It took me awhile to find just plain old butter which was hidden off to the side.

Next, I had to take an elevator…not an escalator…to get to the movie theater itself. It felt very odd standing inside an elevator holding a small bag of popcorn and a coke, staring at other people.

I entered the theater and just took a seat near the front. No one was around me…perfect. It seemed like I had made a good choice after all about the movie.

Once the movie began, I realized that I was hearing a ton of noise from passersby in the lobby. Apparently they don’t close the theater doors when the movie starts. This became very annoying and distracting.

Even worse, though, someone kept coughing literally every 10-20 seconds. No joke. I could have set my watch to it. I looked around to see where it was coming from. Literally down the same row as mine but on the opposite side of the theater sat a mom with a very young girl. It was the girl that was coughing. Well, she did that, no kidding, through the ENTIRE movie! Cough, cough, nose slurp, cough, nose slurp, cough, cough… It was nearly impossible to focus on the film.

About midway through the film, I heard very loud voices from out in the lobby area talking, slowly getting louder as they were apparently getting closer. They came in to our theater, talking at peak volume the entire time, all the way through the small hallway and in to the theater. Once completely inside the theater, a man’s voice said, “Is this the right theater?” again at full volume. They started having a conversation until someone in the theater shushed them up. Wow.

As soon as the movie ended, I raced out of the theater and into the restroom. I was, as usual, now pressed for time to make it back to the hotel, change, freshen up a bit, and then make it to the nights’ performance on time.

Back to the metro I went and barely missed the train. Upon waiting for the next one, I heard a distinctive cough behind me. I turned around and it was the freakin’ mom with her coughing/slurping daughter again! When the train I arrived, I made sure to get in a car that was far away from theirs.

I got back to my hotel and shortly after left again for L’Olympia. As I walked I noticed that the crazies were definitely out this night. Montreal seems to be filled with them! Especially around the Berri-UQAM metro station, I passed multiple people talking to themselves, staring at walls, yelling at invisible people, and who knows what else.

I barely walked into the theater and the lights went down, as if on cue. Evening #2’s performance was underway!


 H announced early on that this evening’s performance was called “A to Z Night”, meaning that they would run through the entire alphabet and play a song that starts with the specified letter, that is, with a few exceptions. It seemed like a pretty cool idea to me.

This show turned out to be absolutely incredible, completely on par with the shows from two years prior. I basically stood in the same area as always and seemed to be surrounded by people who were really into the show versus playing air guitar, etc., like the night prior. The show was also very long, like around three hours in length including the very short intermissions. Marillion as a whole really puts a lot into these shows and it’s quite incredible to see.

One interesting tidbit during this evening was before the song “Especially True”, a track from the latest album “Happiness is the Road”. H announced to the audience, “This song is a sort of naïve Englishmen’s perspective of America….and so we apologize to America beforehand.” A woman then yelled out angrily, “They deserve it!!!” Half the crowd fell completely silent and dumbfounded, more than likely the American half. It really put in perspective how Canada and perhaps the rest of the world feels about the US these days.

During the first intermission, a guy was going through the audience handing out lyric sheets for the song “Jigsaw” which is an old tune off of “Fugazi” back from the Fish era. He kept saying, “The next song is audience participation. H doesn’t sing!” The weird part is that I think everyone thought he was just some quack audience member rather than someone that worked for the band so therefore few people took the lyric sheets. It wasn’t until the band came back on that it all made sense.

Here’s the set list and this one should be pretty accurate:

Asylum Satellite #1
Born to Run
Cannibal Surf Babe
Deserve
Especially True
Fantastic Place
Gazpacho
Half the World
(I stood for intermission)

Jigsaw (audience singing)
King
The Last Century for Man
Marbles III
No Such Thing
The Only Unforgivable Thing
Pseudo Silk Kimono
Quartz
The Release
Sugar Mice
Three Minute Boy

Under the Sun
A Voice from the Past
The Wound

(X stood for eXtra intermission)
You’re Gone
Zeparated Out (a Zeppelin infused version of “Separated Out”)

On my way out of the theater I distinctly heard someone doing a heck of a lot of swearing. Sure enough, I turned around and it was the Toronto guy again. I’d recognize that swearing anywhere! “That was f***in’ awesome! Can you f***in’ believe that?! They played f***in’ ‘Sugar Mice’! I mean, they played f***in’ ‘Sugar Mice’!” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

I also ended up following the same guy back to the hotel from the previous night. We both got into the elevator, looked at one another, and then he asked, “Did you just come from the show?” I said, “Yes. Didn’t I run in to you last night as well?”

I got into my room and drank my now nightly 5 Alive, trying to replenish some of my lost fluids from sweating so much again at the show. I turned the TV on and did my best to find something to watch briefly as I tried to mellow out. I found Saturday Night Live but I personally dislike that show. I searched for something different and found “The Exorcist”…AND it was in English. Now that’s more like it. What a day!

Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal Quebec - Part 1

Part 1 – Friday, April 8th

Some of you may remember my excursion to Montreal in 2009 for the first Marillion Weekend that was ever held on North American soil. It ended up being quite the event and was really a rather fantastic trip, putting aside my persistent stomach issues and not feeling well. I decided to go again this year and here’s my account of the trip.

This will be, like the articles from two years ago, another three part series in order to account for the entire trip. I know some of you are not Marillion fans and so these articles equally focus on the shows as well as me, the trip, and the goofy things that tend to happen. Having said that, I still highly recommend checking out Marillion at http://www.marillion.com/ for anyone that is not familiar with the band. I believe they’re still offering free sampler CD’s to newbies, if you’re at all interested.

I’ll admit up front that I wasn’t looking forward to this trip as much as last time. Maybe it was too soon, meaning, after all, it had only been two years previously. Maybe it was because the trip kind of snuck up on me unexpectedly, only a few days after the snow melted and the weather finally cleared to make way for spring back home. Either way, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy this time around and that made me a bit nervous.

I had booked my flight information very early so I hardly could recall what I had planned for. Upon looking at it again, I was less than thrilled with my selections. My departing flight was decent but I was set to do the same thing I did last time which was arrive late afternoon and then inevitably be in a rush to get to the first Marillion show that evening, the first of three. Even worse, my return flight wasn’t until Monday afternoon and I couldn’t figure out my logic there either. Why do I do this? That’s just it…I can’t remember why I booked it this way. That’s old age speaking.

I hadn’t been sleeping well all week and the night before I left was the worst yet. I was terribly tired to the point that my eyes were itchy, red, and hurt mildly. What a way to begin the trip!

My flight out was pretty routine. Small plane, small seats, and filled mostly with people speaking French because, well, we were headed to Montreal, after all. All I wanted to do was to get on the plane and be able to sleep.

As usual, I was on the plane before the person sitting next to me. I always take a window seat and this particular sized plane only has 2 seats per side. My “neighbor” finally arrived and stood in the aisle a few moments. He very abruptly dropped his magazine onto the seat cushion and it lazily flopped onto the ground. I sat and stared at it momentarily. Should I pick it up for this guy? I kind of figured that by the time I made a decision that he would already be going for it but for some reason he wasn’t. A long uncomfortable couple of moments passed as I debated in my head, and then finally I picked it up and placed it nicely on his seat. He looked at me, smiled gently, and offered an extremely quiet, “thank you,” more mouthed than actually spoken.

When he was finally ready to sit down, he bent over, put his butt in the air, and attempted to plop into his seat except that he missed and landed more or less on my arm, then the armrest, and then into his seat, basically dragging his butt down my left arm. Lovely! Yes, this is what I was looking forward to. You’ve got to love air travel, I tell you!

He didn’t say another word to me for the rest of the flight. In fact, I don’t think he looked at me once after that which was sort of okay since all I wanted to do was sleep. Well, that wasn’t going to happen either, at least not much. He fidgeted the entire trip, more or less suddenly getting up slightly, repositioning himself in his seat and bumping the armrest between us, which then woke me up. This occurred over and over, like every 5-10 minutes. I would barely get my eyes closed, fall asleep, and whammo. Fantastic! Getting better all the time!

He also read his magazine, some business journal, religiously through the entire trip, or at least when I had my eyes open. It was amazing. I’ve never seen anyone so glued to something before. Even when the flight attendant would come by and ask a question, he would simply reply by staring at the magazine rather than making eye contact.

Right before we landed, we were asked to fill out our customs forms and, as usual, I didn’t have a pen with me. The guy next to me, though, had one that he had placed into the seat holder after he was done using it. I politely asked him if I could use his pen and he literally took it out of the holder, handed it to me, and didn’t look up from his magazine once. Wow. It was almost impressive. I used his pen, filled out my form, and then handed it back, saying thank you. He nodded at his magazine without a word.

We landed at the airport and got off the plane by walking down the built-in stairwell of the plane, something we don’t do often anymore in the US. It was extremely steep so I understand why we don’t! Then began the enormous trek to the customs booth. If you’ve ever landed in Montreal before, you’ll probably remember being herded like cattle for what seems like blocks before you get to the customs area. Once there, you queue like at Disneyland to get through customs.

The officer I went to apparently was having a bad day. She asked me where I was coming from and I totally blanked. “Um…” I said like a fool, and then it dawned on me, “Oh, um, Minnesota!” Believe it or not, she still let me through, although I grabbed my passport and started walking way. “Um, sir!” she yelled at me. I turned around to see that she was handing me my customs form back. “Oh!” I grabbed the form and she simply glared at me with the face of death. Geesh, tough crowd!

I carried on my baggage so I didn’t need to worry about picking anything up at baggage claim. Per the documentation that I had looked at previously, I needed to catch the 747 Express bus to downtown Montreal and I could buy an STM pass (transit pass) at the Currency desk. I found the Currency desk and asked for an STM pass. Apparently, it was the wrong Currency desk and so I left a bit confused.

Next, there was a huge line at the exit. I couldn’t figure out why at first but it’s because you need to hand your customs form to yet another officer in order to exit. It was a terrible way to queue a bunch of people but that seems to be the norm in Montreal, from at least what I’ve seen. Once I managed to get through the exit, I found yet another Currency desk, all the while hoping that this would be the correct one. I could also see the 747 Express bus waiting outside the airport so I felt a bit more confident.

The Currency desk was completely enshrouded with plastic with no actual holes in it to talk through. The only opening was at the bottom where you could pass money back and forth. I asked the man in the booth if I could buy an STM pass. He responded and I could see his lips move but absolutely no sound was heard. I politely said, “I can’t hear you,” and so he started raising his voice but mostly speaking French and/or with a strong accent. Oh boy, here we go…

And so, we went back and forth, him not understanding me and I not understanding him. I asked for a 1 day and a 3 day pass and asked if they take credit card. He said that they only accepted cash. I asked if he accepted American dollars, which was the only thing I had on me at this point, and he said yes but seemed to be confused about how much it was. He came up with $37, which seems wrong to me in hindsight, and I handed him two $20 bills. He seemed really confused by them and asked, “Is this forty?” This, of course, confused the hell out of me, I mean, he was the currency exchange after all. I said, “Yes, it’s forty.” He reluctantly took it, handed me the passes, and very little change. I felt like I had just been ripped off but who knows. I know the American dollar is down in comparison to the Canadian dollar but what did I know. It really hits home how bad the American economy is when the Canadian dollar is worth a bit more.

I exited the airport and boarded the 747 Express bus. There was a machine at the front of the bus where you evidently had to swipe your STM pass. I was the first person on the bus so I didn’t have the opportunity to watch someone else do it. And so, like an idiot, I was trying to swipe the card at the wrong spot, wondering why it wasn’t working. Here I am, waving my card around over this large piece of plastic, expecting some sort of magic to happen, while the bus driver sat and watched me with a puzzled look on his face. He finally grew tired of seeing me act the fool and so he pointed at the correct place to put the card while saying something loudly in French. I swiped the card and sure enough, a little green light went on with a pleasant “bleep” sound.

I placed my luggage in the rack and took a seat. One by one people piled onto the bus until it was wall to wall people. They sure know how to pack them in, let me tell you. One other person wasn’t sure what to do with their STM card so it evidently wasn’t just me. A little while later, the bus took off over the rough roads towards downtown Montreal.

It was then that I noticed a guy wearing sunglasses who was wearing a Marillion t-shirt. I had been wondering if I’d bump into any other fans along the way. I don’t normally wear any band paraphernalia, except my own, ironically, and so I travel pretty much undercover, if you will. There was a couple sitting almost directly across from me that looked rather confused. They were in their early 50’s and looked extremely hip for their age. They didn’t look French Canadian to me but instead possibly English. The man took out a map of the metro and they both did their best to interpret it. He especially looked at it with a very puzzled look on his face as he turned the map different directions.

A little while later, the man turned to the guy in the Marillion t-shirt and said, “I see your shirt. You’re going to Weekend I suppose, eh?” They in turn started up a conversation which I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on. It took all of a couple seconds to hear the couples’ accent to know they were from the UK. A little while later, the man said, “Well, we’re from England and we just saw the Marillion Weekend in Amsterdam last month. So, we decided to come here and make a vacation of it.” Ah, yes, English, just like I thought. Damn I’m good. The couple turned out to be named Oliver and Lynn and I eventually butted my own way into the conversation. Next thing you know, the topic of Marillion took over the 747 bus. It was kind of cool, at least to those of us in on the conversation.

Just like last time, it seemed to take forever to get to downtown. Along the way, the bus passed by what seemed like endless pits of destruction filled with torn up concrete, buildings perhaps blown to bits, etc. I distinctly remember this from the last trip as well. It seems that Montreal always looks to be in a state of disarray, like some war just ripped through the city but managed to stay out of the news. A bit later, after entering the downtown area, the bus finally arrived at my stop and I exited with my suitcase. I only had a short walk and there was the Days Inn Centreville. Nice and convenient!

I checked in and went up to my room. My room was on the 2nd floor and was located right along the street with large glass windows. At first, this seemed cool; later on, it would end up being a true burden, but more on that later. Whereas the room did look like the brochure in most respects, the hotel in general looked and sounded better in theory than it was. It was obvious that Photoshop helped with the attractiveness of the brochure. It wasn’t bad, mind you, but didn’t exactly turn me on. My hotel from the previous trip was definitely a bit classier. I was also disappointed to see that this hotel didn’t have any sort of store to buy water, coffee, etc.


My hotel room


I actually ended up getting to the hotel earlier than I had expected. It was now around 5:30pm so I had enough time to get something to eat and chill a bit before the show. I went through the restaurant list that I brought with me and decided to go to a place called L’Escalier and see what they were all about since it wasn’t very far from the hotel.

This also gave me an opportunity to check out the area around the hotel. This turned out to be rather disappointing as well. The direct area right around the hotel looked a little shady. It was only the police station one block down that put me a bit at ease. Then again, maybe that was a bad sign. I couldn’t be sure.

The only “real” looking sit down styled restaurant I passed was called Pacini and looked to be Italian food. This was a good find since I now had a fallback plan if L’Escalier didn’t work out.

I had previously wondered how I hadn’t seen L’Escalier last time I was here since I had to walk right past it to get to the theater where Marillion perform. Once I found the restaurant I understood how I missed it; there’s nothing there but a strangely painted door. The actual building is on the second floor and there’s simply a green door leading upwards with no sign, etc. You’d never know it was there if you weren’t looking for it.

I went through the door and walked up the stairs. It had a definite urban hippie sort of vibe and I felt slightly out of place. The menu was written on a chalkboard above a long counter and it was completely in French. I could make out only one word here or there. This was going to be tricky.

I went up to the counter and a girl greeted me in French. I quickly switched the conversation to English but the girl had quite an accent. I asked, “Do you take credit cards?” She said no, that they didn’t have a machine. Ugh. “Do you take American dollars?” I asked hopefully. “I don’t have any Canadian money.” At first she said no, then someone else came up and said yes. Then the two of them spoke back and forth and I got completely lost in the conversation. “So…yes then?” I asked again. It seemed so. I ordered a tofu sandwich, although honestly I had no idea what I was really ordering, and some sort of cranberry drink. The girl promptly pulled out a slim can and popped the top. I handed her a $20 bill and she started to panic.

“Oh, no. I can’t do twenty,” she said. She said this like she had already told me, which maybe she did amongst all the other commotion and I didn’t hear her.

“Well, I don’t have anything smaller,” I said. I was getting frustrated, especially since I didn’t even know what the heck I was ordering. “Is there an ATM here?”

“Oui!” she replied. “Right out the door over there,” she stated pointing.

“Ok, I’ll come back.” She looked a bit frustrated and so was I. “Sorry!” I said and walked back down the stairs. By the time I reached the bottom I thought, screw this, I’m going to Pacini! This isn’t worth the hassle! And this, my friends, is why I didn’t eat out much last time I was in Montreal.

I backtracked towards the hotel again and went in to Pacini. A bit of time had passed and now I was getting closer to being in a bit of a hurry. There was no real time for debating at this point. Inside the restaurant, I first came upon a centrally located square grill of sorts with a bunch of people standing around it. I’ve never seen anything quite like it and couldn’t figure out what exactly they were doing. Ignoring them, I finally found the host/hostess podium and was seated by a hostess. The menu was both in French and English, thankfully.

I spoke to the waitress a bit and I settled upon the lasagna, more or less based upon her recommendation. She said it came with the all you can eat bread bar. The what?! I went and checked it out and that’s what the square grill was all about. Basically, there are a few different varieties of thickly sliced bread to choose from. You pick one out and then choose from a variety of spreads like butter, pesto, garlic, tomato, etc. You spread that on your bread and then place it on the grill with tongs. Standing around the grill, you wait until it chars to your liking. It’s actually pretty ingenious, I thought, and turned out to be the best part of the meal.

The lasagna was less than good. It was kind of cold, had no real flair to it at all, and was a bit worse than one of the frozen varieties I frequently purchase. The meal wasn’t cheap, either. I was a bit bummed. I had a hard time getting the bill too. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking.

I paid for my meal, went back to the hotel briefly, and then it was off to the show. In fact, the doors had opened up an hour previously and at least one of the warm up acts had already been on. I wanted to catch a bit of it but, as it turned out, I had just missed it.

I walked into L’Olympia, got my Marillion Weekend wristband, schedule, etc., and ventured in to the theater. The place was pretty crowded and I more or less went to the same location that I stood for all three shows two years previously. In a bit of irony, without realizing it, I ended up standing directly behind Oliver and Lynn, the English couple from the 747 Express bus. We shook hands, talked a bit, and it wasn’t long before the second warm up act, John Wesley, came out. I’ve seen John Wesley play every single time I’ve seen Marillion and, well, not really by choice. He’s a great guitar player, mind you, and not a bad songwriter either but I could have certainly skipped it. A bit too stuck in the 80’s for my taste but that’s just me.

After John Wesley was done, the audience had shifted quite a bit. I had no idea what happened to Oliver and Lynn and did not see them again for the rest of the weekend. As I waited for the main show to start, I couldn’t help but listen to these two guys behind me talking about Marillion and the crowd, etc. One guy said the word f*** literally twice in every sentence. “I can’t f***in’ believe how many f***in’ people there are here. I mean, it’s f***in’ incredible to see this many f***in’ Marillion fans in one f****in’ place!”

They started talking about the warm up act, meaning John Wesley, and they apparently didn’t know who he was. I assumed they hadn’t picked up a schedule on the way in. “Who is this f***in’ guy? He’s a f***in’ great guitar player.” I didn’t want John Wesley to lose out on a potential fan and so I turned around and filled them in.

“That’s John Wesley. He almost always opens up for Marillion,” I said. “He’s playing a free show at some bar tomorrow during the day, if you want to check it out.” We chatted briefly. Turns out they were from Toronto. No joke, every sentence had some variation of f*** in it. Coupled with the Canadian accent it was pretty unbelievable. They were really pleasant, mind you, and it turned out that the one guy had followed Marillion for years. “Yeah, I saw Marillion back when f***in’ Fish was in the group. Man, in ’85, he f***in’ came out in a f***in’ kilt! I mean, what the f***?! A f***in’ kilt! It was f***in’ incredible! Just like in the f***in’ video! Have you seen the f***in’ video? It was just like that! F***in’ incredible!”

Shortly after, the lights went down and Marillion took the stage. Night #1 was a full performance of the “Holidays in Eden” album, one of their weaker more pop oriented albums, but the tour that I happened to miss by total accident back in 1992. I had always looked for a way to make that up.

The crowd was beyond gracious. After the opening song “Splintering Heart” was completed, the crowd simply cheered and clapped for what seemed like five minutes. The band was clearly touched.


Marillion playing a track from "Holidays in Eden" (notice the graphic in the background)


Something weird happened during one of my favorite tunes “The Party”. All of a sudden the room smelled of smoke and fire. You couldn’t really see smoke but it definitely had a super strong odor of unmistakable fire. Everyone started looking around worriedly, almost waiting for panic to erupt. We were quite packed in to the theater so this was really rather disconcerting. The band continued playing, though, as if they didn’t notice it and nothing ever became of it. Unfortunately, it caused me to more or less miss the entire song. I’m still not sure what the heck happened.

There were lots of technical glitches throughout the night. At one point, after guitarist Steve Rothery switched guitars, the tech forgot to plug it in. Later on, lead singer Steve Hogarth (H) commented, “Please forgive us if we make any mistakes. We’ve got like 9 hours of music in our heads right now for you and some of these songs we haven’t played in years, or really ever, for that matter. So, please overlook any mistakes.” On the very next song, Steve Rothery completely messed up his guitar solo and did his best to flub his way through it, improvising. After the song was over, he smiled embarrassingly at the rest of the band with a “what the hell was that?” sort of look on his face.


Steve Rothery taking a guitar solo


Another interesting moment was when H greeted the audience officially. He started in French but clearly only knew a handful of words. He quickly switched to English and said something along the lines of ‘I don’t what the heck I’m saying anyhow’. Some guy yelled out, “Hee hee hee, ho ho ho,” as in the French slur from a movie like, say, “The Little Mermaid”, where the French chef goes after the fish. It was really quite odd. Obviously, there were lots of Americans in the audience and English Canadians as well but it seemed rather rude to yell such a thing out in Montreal on French Canadian soil.


Steve Hogarth (H) center stage with the lights focused on him


Here’s the set list, all done by memory. I’m sure I’ve got a few of these out of order but I think I have them all listed:


Splintering Heart
Cover My Eyes
The Party
No One Can
Holidays in Eden
Dry Land
Waiting to Happen
This Town
The Rake’s Progress
100 Nights

(break)

A Collection
How Can it Hurt
Beautiful
The Memory of Water (new alt. rock version)

Man of a Thousand Faces

The Invisible Man


The show was good but I was closer than usual and it was extremely hot in the theater. It was so hot that I felt almost faint at times and therefore it kind of put me in a daze through most of it. It was almost like I wasn’t fully there for the show and it seemed to pass by without me. In hindsight, I should have moved back in order to get some air but, alas, I did not.


H as the "Invisible Man"


I returned to my hotel completely exhausted and dry mouthed. I hadn’t been sleeping well so that coupled with sweating to death really knocked me out. It was also now after midnight. I luckily found a vending machine in the hotel and purchased the only juice looking drink in it. I wasn’t sure what it was because the label was in French on the sign. Upon receiving it, it turned out to be 5 Alive, something I haven’t had in years. I drank it way too quickly and plopped down on the bed to watch a bit of TV before turning in. 80% of the channels were in French. To make matters worse, there didn’t appear to be any cable TV nor pay movie channels. This was going to be rough. I was really not pleased with my hotel choice at this point.

I turned the lights out and climbed in to bed. There was a heck of a lot of noise on the street for 12:30am. Keep in mind that I was located on the 2nd floor facing the street. I couldn’t really get the room completely dark so I got up and tried to close the curtains more. I fidgeted with the curtain rod and it disconnected from up above and basically fell on my head. I tried but couldn’t seem to get it back up from whence it came. I had only been there a few hours and I was already wrecking the place.

I got back in to bed and started to relax. Amidst the sounds of cars honking, revving, and occasional police sirens, I suddenly heard a woman screaming. Alarmed, I put my head up to listen and pondered if I should call the front desk, or maybe even the police. Then, the more I listened, I realized that I was hearing someone in a room down the hall and, um, I think she was close to climaxing. I figured I better not call anyone about it.

I started to drift off slowly. It had been a long day and a slightly disappointing one. Maybe coming out for this Marillion Weekend wasn’t such a great idea after all. Maybe I’m over it. Who knows. Zzzzzzz…

Uh Oh, You've Expired!

I keep a spare toothbrush and toothpaste at work in my desk drawer for nights when I’m going out straight from work. The thought of going anywhere with foul breath, dirty teeth, or, um, an unclean tongue just makes me uneasy.

I was brushing my teeth at work the other day and thought to myself, my, this toothpaste tastes a bit funky. Now, it is a different brand than I use at home so my initial thought was that it’s simply different tasting. Then I remembered that I have thought this before and, the more I thought about it, it kind of seemed like the taste of the toothpaste was perhaps getting stronger.

Does toothpaste have something like an expiration date? I wasn’t really sure. I started checking out the tube while I was still brushing and, sure enough, toothpaste DOES have an expiration date. The date was almost exactly a year earlier.

Oh…

Now, I can’t say for sure that that accounts for the funky taste but, well, it’s certainly suspicious. This, my friends, is a phenomenon that I’ve just recently really started to encounter quite often. Yes, that’s right, I’ve reached that point in life where I’m old enough that time passes by very quickly and therefore expiration dates come and go, and yet I unknowingly keep using the product. It’s kind of embarrassing, really.

For example, a few months ago (or was it years ago? See what I mean?), we decided to go through the lazy susan and search for products that might have expired. I can’t recall what it was that prompted this (of course) but the outcome was shocking. We found multiple spices that had an expiration date of 2007 or slightly before! Some of these items I would have sworn that I had just purchased only a few months prior.

How does this happen? Where does the time actually go? And, most importantly, why is it going so fast?!

It’s kind of funny but also rather scary. Time moves so quickly these days that I’m almost afraid to go to sleep, terrified that I’ll wake up and be 80 years old with no recollection of the forty years that have passed.

I’m curious – are any of you experiencing this sort of thing? If you are, and if you can remember to remember, tell me about it! I’ll be interested to hear anyone’s theories on this strange mystery of life. The only theory I can ever come up with is that the more time we live through the less we seem to “feel” it pass us by since we become sort of immune to it. This alone is a rather frightening thought. Having said that, heck, I need to get off my rear end and go get something accomplished before it’s too late!

2 Minute Movie Reviews

In Theaters Now:

"127 Hours" - 3 (out of 5) stars - "A rather lighthearted and slightly fun movie up until...well, you know. The cinematography is very interesting with lots of variety and creative shots. The story itself, though, as a film at least, drags slightly, especially since we all know the ending. It's also one of the most disgusting and uncomfortable things I've ever seen on a screen. I've watched countless gross horror movies and never had an issue; I had to close my eyes in this film since I felt both sick to my stomach and faint. I think reviewer's are getting hung up on Aron Ralston's extraordiary true life story and sympathetically calling this a fantastic film."

"Another Year" - 4 stars - "Yet another excellent film from Mike Leigh that focuses on characters and standard plot development. This film, like many of Leigh's movies, has a way of making the viewer feel like another guest of the main couple, Tom and Gerri, allowing you to go through the same wide range of emotions and events that occur throughout the story. The film may not have a thick plot line that can be summed up cleanly but definitely sticks with you days after viewing."


On DVD:

"Devil" - 2 stars - "Another film from M. Night Shyamalan which once again clearly displays that, while his ideas may be interesting, they cannot be executed to their full potential. The film suffers from countless bits of unrealistic dialogue, goofy characterizations, and various tidbits which both annoy the viewer and ruin the suspense angle."

"Jack Goes Boating" - 3 stars - "An interesting look at the beginning of an unlikely couple while a societal "normal" couple destructs in the background. The film leaves the viewer feeling uncomfortable, unsure, and slightly confused and yet somehow a bit satisfied."