What were we talking about again?... Oh yeah, Hitler...

The hour and a half drive from Totonto to Niagara Falls was awesome, mostly because it wasn't the 6 hour drive from Montreal to Toronto. We got to Niagara yesterday afternoon and checked into the hostel, which turns out was voted North America's Best Hostel last year. Cool. After throwing our stuff in the room, Tom and I made our way to the main attraction... The Criminal Hall of Fame Wax Museum. Just kidding.

This was my first time being to Niagara Falls, and it just took my breath away. The incredible blend of beauty, history, and sheer power left my jaw agape and my feet frozen to the cobblestone. We later learned that the river upstream of the falls is actually diverted and 75% of the water is used for hydropower, which meant that the water going over the falls is only 25% of the river's full potential.

On the Canadian side of the Falls, the majestic falls are coupled nicely with an "offensively toursist" town complete with $10 "Labrinth" mazes and more haunted houses than I thought possible.

After seeing the sites, we made our way to Jack's Cantina, which for some reason had live music only on Tuesday nights. As soon and Tom and I made our way into the bar (after getting our IDs checked twice), we saw a 50-something man with long black curly hair and a leather jacket hitting on the young bartenders. We both assumed it was the singer of the band... but we were wrong.

About 1o minutes later, he approached us at the bar and started talking us up...

Dude: "So... you play?"

Tom: "Music?"

Dude: "No, with yourself"

He introduced himself as Brock Michaels, and told us, in great detail, of his vast sexual escapades when he was our age. He insisted on buying us both a beer, so we took him up on the offer. For the next hour, he talked to us about music, girls, and the band. He turned out to be much drunker than I originally thought. Every few minutes he would shake our hands like he was going to leave, but then come back with another comment about the band or the bartenders 30 seconds later.

He said something about being the band's manager and told Tom that he could easily get him a gig in Niagara the next night. Tom gave him his info, and we got his. Turns out... his name is actually Michael Furness, managing partner of Zertron communications corp.

By this point Tom and I were rather creeped out, and Tom took the opportunity to ask the band's singer/keyboard player about Brock/Michael.

Tom: Hey man, I just wanted you to know that you guys were really good, we really enjoyed the show

Singer: Thanks man, I'm glad you liked it

Tom: So... weird question... whats the deal with that older guy with the black hair?

Singer: OHHH that guy.... he's just a guy that likes to come see the band, he's embarassing

After that, our night was complete and we made it back to the hostel and got some sleep. Another day of exploring tomorrow...

Lazer Tag... Part II

So we managed to forget one of the best parts of the whole night in Toronto. As Tom and I were watching Julian Hatchback (as Tom calls him) and his "band" play, I decided it would be a great idea to tell him that we came all the way from New Hampshire to see his band.

So after their set, we grabbed Julian and told him exactly that... and he bought every word of it. A rush of disbelief, gratitude, and bemusement overcame him as we pulled off one of the best acting jobs of our lives.

Later in the night Julian came up to me again, gave me his CD for free and offered to buy us drinks. We win.

Come to the Island. Lazer Tag....Lazer Tag

An entire city of Canadian culture at our feet and it is time for dinner. Chipotle here we come. After standing in what was probably the most ungodly long line for a burrito I had personally ever witnessed we sat down to devour our Mexican goodies. Bellies full Steve and I returned to the hostel before setting out for the evenings misadventures and took a brief respite.

Upon awakening we inquired as to where the best bars to hit up might be. Faith a lovely hostel caretaker recommended the Bovine Sex Club....Game on. Faith continued to inform us that clubs have a shelf life of about 10 years or so but the Bovine sex club has been a Toronto staple for years!

After about 15 minutes of walking Steve exclaims

"Tom look at that building with all that crazy shit on it!"
"Where?"

Behind me was a black store front with.....everything. The outside wall covered in all manner of the most random assortment of shit you would ever hope to see. I'm talking barbed wire to stuffed flamingos. Without a moment of hesitation I step inside and quickly learn that Steve Bench has discovered the Bovine Sex Club. We also discover that we are the only two patrons present.

The interior of the club was no disappointment. The walls were covered with dismantled baby dolls, a lobster trap, band stickers, decaptitated barbies, televisions, and taxadermed animals. The performance stage was bitchin and every bit suited for supporting bands the likes of Black Cat Attack, Braincell Graveyard, and Permanent Bastards.

After leaving the Bovine Steve and I made our way back up the street to check out a blues/Jazz club we had seen earlier. After being seated we ordered a pitcher and had at it. The band playing was good and held our attention for a while. After hangin out for a while we decided to make our way back down the street to a place called The Hideout we had looked into earlier. The bar tender had informed us that some bands would be playing at 11 so we thought what the hell. And never before had we heard the likes of Julian Bachlow and the Good Times Running. A band of four ordinary people united with the help of alcohol, came together to create the the most unreal musical experience of our lives. Fronted by Julian Bachlow for the next hour the band regailed us with such mind blowing numbers as "Come to the Island". A piece that takes the listener on a journey through a tropical oasis filled with talking monkeys and cheap tourist thrills. The song can't help but go to number one with a rousing chorus of "Come to the Island....Lazer tag....Lazer Tag." Repeated at nausium.

Having never experienced anything the likes of Julian Bachlow and the Good Times Running Steve and I were entertaining ourselves making very loud comments about the band's musical achievements when we caught the attention of two locals Theresa and Josh. They called us over
"COME DRINK WITH US!"
we replied
"OK"

The next hour was filled with stories of our travels and the exchanging of backgrounds and interests. And Alcohol. Theresa offered Steve and I a place to stay promising breakfast and hot showers but seeing as we had already payed for our room we politely declined.

Upon returning to the hostel we ran into our good friend Faith. The next hour and a half was filled with wonderful conversation about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness....and salt and vinegar chips.

Some how throughout my conversation with Faith Steve Bench managed to find not only Josh but also Theresa on facebook. A feat sounding none to impressive under everyday circumstances but had you been present you would not have a choice but to be impressed.

10 minutes later lights out. Tomorrow we spend the day in Niagra. Talk to you soon!

It's a one-way, eh

Day Two: Montreal

After waking up in a fog from a subpar slumber in the oh-so-classy Oscar Motel, Tom and quickly checked out and made our way into downtown Montreal to find internet. We ended up in a cool cafe near the University of Montreal, and decided it best to book a hostel to avoid a repeat of the previous night.

Less than an hour after booking two beds in HI-Montreal, we found ourselves in the most perfect hostel. This place was made for 20-something kids adventuring through Canada. After a much-needed power nap we found some "not-quite-food" as the hostel receptionist put it, then hit the bars.

We chose the "Cock N Bulls" as bar number 1. This bar was comprised of a sea of 30-somethings swimming in a sea of pre-St. Patricks Day drunkeness. After ordering our first legal beers, we decided we needed to meet people. Less than 30 seconds later, a middle-aged lady stares Tom down and caresses his face. Our first friend. She started telling us about the city when she points out her belligerently drunk boyfriend who we came to know as Crazy Pat. Crazy Pat came up behind us, grabbed the back of our necks, and began to scream at the top of his lungs in a poor attempt to sing. His girlfriend tried to remind him of the words, "Whisky...." but it was no use. Crazy Pat continued to scream into our ears until his girlfriend finally got him to stop. Needless to say, we had enough of the Cock N Bulls, so we began to hunt for an Irish bar called O'Rinnogens.

3 miles and 2 bathroom breaks later, we gave up and found a cool Irish Pub called Hurlys. After buying a few $9.00 beers, we found a room where an Irish folk band was playing, doing some cover songs. At this point, I'm not sure why, but when this 50-something-year-old Asian man stood up and danced an Irish jig alone in front of the stage, some part of my Irish heritage rushed back into me. Life-changing experience.

We met a few cool girls, Grace (the female version of Indiana Jones) and Valerie (who we met as a result of turning around as she showed Grace her underwear), who had been drinking since 9 am that day and were still going strong.

Back at the hostel, we made friends with Sam, a 25-year old guy originally from Mexico. When Sam was 18, he got bored of Mexico and decided to pack up his things and move to Vancouver. 7 years later (a week ago) he again got bored and traveled to Montreal with all of his belongings, which fit into a backpack and a duffle bag. He shared with us his two philosophies on life...

1. Things are not difficult. People make things difficult. People who make things difficult are idiots.

2. The World is like a book. If you don't travel, you're only reading one page.

We also met a group from UMass, Esme, Jake, Dan, and Matt, who were going on a similar Montreal adventure. We ended up trading cheeses at 1 am, which, at the time, was extremely important to this former-Deli-employee. The smoked swiss changed their lives.

So here we are, at a sauna of a hostel in Toronto after a 6-hour drive, about to go out and explore the city. Hopefully going to see the Hockey Hall of Fame, and maybe taking a ride up in the Space Needle.

Tonight, the adventures continue, and tomorrow, we venture to Niagra Falls for two nights

Burlington: "The whole city is like a piece of art!"

Day one:

After waking and reassessing a night of slightly drunken packing. Steve and I are satisfied that we have everything necessary to make our blitz through VT up into Montreal.

The "plan":

Wake up

Drive to Burlington

See scenery/go out to eat

Explore

find some cool people to take us in and give us a place to sleep.

Wake up the next day and make our way to Montreal

Mischief will ensue.

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED

We arrive in Burlington to our delight and find it breathtaking. Even more simultaneously funky and quaint than we could have imagined. (At this point follow "The Plan" up until explore).

The trip began to get interesting until we realized that all but 2 students attending the University of Vermont were GONE. Not being 21 we aren't able to make any friends in the local bars. No Biggy. Steve and I decide to sleep in the car. It's cozy and we curl up in the back seat to a freshly bought copy of Garden State. After the movie we make ourselves ready for bed and attempt to get comfortable. 10 minutes into our exhausted slumber a knock on the window occurs.

"he--wh-canihelpyou?" I ask

"you guys can't sleep here?"

Steve and I look at eachother. We had thought this might happen.

"Guess we're goin to Canada!" Steve and I exclaim simultaneously.

Luke as it turns out the security guard's name was informed us that he was really sorry he had to kick us out but he hoped we would have a good time in canada. he began to leave but seemed to think to himself for a minute then returned and asked us....

"Hey...you guys goin to some strip clubs up there right? Well you should tell one of the girls to do a fiver."

I'll let you urban dictionary what a fiver is to get the picture.

We re-pack the car and at this point it's about 12 am.

Canadian border is reached at 1:30.

The next 3 and a half hours are spent driving through downtown Montreal nearly running down dozens of drunkards. and looking for somewhere to sleep. Desperate, we walked into virtually every hotel in the downtown area to learn that everywhere is full. exhausted and delirious our trusty TomTom leads us to a place called Motel Oscar.

80 dollars later Steve and I finally lay down our heads in a small, stained, and smoke-filled cavern of a motel room. As we are just passing out Steve asks if we should set an alarm for the morning. I say I don't know or care. I'm to busy listening to the russeling of a rat in the bathroom.