A Night in Montreal

Breathing in the usual New York City air, a group of friends and I spontaneously decided to go on a road trip to Toronto, Canada. It was the 8th of January 2016, and we were all sprung out from roaming around New York City, endlessly looking for an unusual adventure. It was Friday, "the perfect day for a road trip," laughed one of my friends. There I was actually entertaining the idea of going to Toronto, a completely different city in a completely different country. Frantically rushing home to find my long lost passport, the feeling of excitement burst out of me. I knew it would be a weekend none of us would ever forget.

The road trip began with everyone fighting over the aux cord, with each one of us swearing our music was much better than the other. As we passed endless roads, I drifted into sleep with my headphones on as loud as the volume could go to drown out the annoying voices of my friends, only to later be awoken by them chanting "we're going to Montreal." A cloud of disappointment came over me. I had searched up all the amazing places in Toronto, and had already gotten myself excited about them. Knowing well enough that, as the official quiet person in the group, I had no say.

Passing through the streets of Montreal, I realized how different the air was—so new, so fresh, and definitely breathtaking. The wind was bitterly cold, no matter how you tried to escape it, you just couldn't. Montreal had a certain dramatic beauty to it, almost like an opera song about to end. Everyone got out of the car, following Danny, who was supposedly leading us to a party one of his Canadian buddies were having. A part of me wanted to ask him if this was the only reason he'd brought us to Montreal; to party. I couldn't bring myself to care, as I couldn't manage to take my eyes off the city.

There we were, loud music, air filled with smoke, the nauseating smell of alcohol and a bunch of drunk people, fuming over each other. All this came natural to my friends; this was their natural habitat, and there I was in the corner, hoping one of my friends would get tired, but even I knew we'd probably leave the god forsaken party around seven AM tomorrow morning. I had to get some air, before I convinced myself to join in on "the fun."

Trying to avoid the bitter winds, I closed my eyes and imagined myself floating above the city, taking in all the amazing architecture and culture Montreal had to offer. I felt a tap on my shoulders but figured it was probably the wind hitting against my hair. It took four more taps until I opened my eyes to see possibly the most gorgeous human being I'd ever seen. Immediately after opening my eyes, I closed them again, convincing myself he was a part of my imagination. He was still there asking, "Are you okay," with a very strong french accent. Feeling dumbfounded, I looked around pretending I was lost, about to ask him for directions.

"You look bored," he said, and indeed, I was . Before I knew it, the gorgeous human being took my hands and walked me down the street. It was like my mind couldn't process what was happening, and again, excitement began to burst out of me. I was no hopeless romantic, but at that moment I felt like I'd finally be able to feel what my friend Rita calls "the ultimate love story." Walking down the block, I could hear him talk, but I was too focused on his lips and how much I desperately wanted them to touch mine. He stopped walking and stood in front of me, "are you okay," he asked again. I couldn't say a word, so I nodded my head.

He started talking and I started listening, and in no time, I thought he had the most beautiful soul, and a beautiful mind. Whenever he'd talk about his life, it sounded like a song; so deep and meaningful. It felt like we'd been walking forever. He stopped in front of a restaurant, held my hand, and asked if I would be his date for the night. I looked at him, then looked at myself. I was wearing washed up jeans and a sweater. There was no way I could walk up in that fancy restaurant dressed like this. Then I remembered that this could be my "ultimate love story." This was going to be my first actual date, oh, how my friends would be so proud of me. Before I could give a response, he said "You are so beautiful, everything you wear becomes beautiful because of you." I was already in love with a guy I'd just met. I felt so confident walking past all those fancy dressed people with this gorgeous human being by my side.

Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar foods on the menu, I decided to play it safe and order something that had chicken in it. I wanted to hear more of his amazing life experiences, but he seemed anxious and on edge. He'd look over my shoulder every minute. I thought he was nervous, so I decided to tell him about myself. Before I knew it, he forcibly placed his lips on mine, and finally stopped when he heard "Jose." Suddenly, I was back to reality, where I knew this wasn't going to end well. A girl in an apron, who obviously worked there, stood in front of us, and she looked liking a ticking bomb about to explode. The gorgeous human being who I now know as Jose started smiling. She began screaming at the fact that he had the guts to bring another girl at her workplace after they'd just broken up hours before. He stood up and started laughing at the fact she thought he wouldn't be able to replace her quickly. Then she began to cry and ran out the back of the restaurant. He looked regretful and ran after her.

After 38 minutes, it was certain that he wasn't coming back for me. There I was, left with an overpriced bill, a dead phone, and no memory of the path back to the house party. I paid and walked out the restaurant, and there they were, kissing their lives away. What I was about to do next was by far the most awkward thing I could ever do, but I was desperate to get back to my friends, so I went to interrupt their kiss and ask for the direction to where he first saw me. I didn't get to finish my sentence when the girl gave me the biggest slap of my life. She spoke french so fast, I waited for her to stoke on her own spit, but she kept flowing as if she was rapping. Jose pulled her back and offered to walk me back to where he found me.

On the way back, I tried as much as possible not to look at him, and I prayed to god he wouldn't say a word. I just wanted to silently go back to the god forsaken party and pretend this never happened. Finally, I recognized the house, and before entering, Jose asked for my number, and all I could say was "Fuck You."