I was supposed to meet three friends for brunch and later was to work for a conference. I set out at 9:30 for our 10:00 meeting at my friend’s home. She had sent me directions via E mail so I felt confident, never noticing that we had never exchanged phone numbers… I was supposed to take the Ville Marie expressway direction Champlain bridge. Well I should have known something was wrong when I saw the signs that offered the choice: Ville Marie Expressway OR Champlain bridge. It went downhill from there. I had to backtrack several times, and finally gave up trying to follow her directions. I tried guess work and got lost. Entered one-way streets in the wrong direction, ended up in a surprising number of dead ends. Needless to say I was without my map book. (I always have it with me but having just changed cars I had not yet transferred that precious piece of equipment into the new vehicle). There were no open gas stations. I tried asking directions in a few convenience stores but got nowhere. I went through every conceivable emotion, from mild annoyance, to irritation, to despair. I was in tears. Strange how something as mundane as getting lost can make all kinds of other pain surface. It was no longer just finding my way, it was a matter of pride, How could I get lost in my own city? I felt like a failure. I finally found a phone booth with an intact phone book still hanging and called her. Lo and behold the other two had also got lost. She gave me verbal directions that proved to be wrong once more…Direction giving is not her forte. One hour and 45 minutes after departing I finally made it to her door.
Once we had all cooled down and calmed down, we hopped back into my car and set off for one of the loveliest drives one can take in Montreal: we followed the water’s edge all the way to the western tip of the island. As I was driving I could not take photos, but it truly is a scenic road, dotted with incredible houses and mansions. We stopped in Sainte Anne de Bellevue, where we had lunch on a terrace on the water’s edge. It was a Greek restaurant and I had the most wonderful roasted vegetables salad with feta cheese sprinkled over it.
After lunch we walked along to the locks looking down at all the bathing suit clad people on their boats waiting to go through. There was a fair, and a marching band. We crossed over to the park and sat in the shade of a weeping willow. It was a lovely day.
Later we came back, I changed clothes and headed for the convention centre. I parked in an empty lot, crossed the street and went in. I was early. The job was easy: setting up a shuttle service between the center and the opening night reception a few blocks away. Everything went smoothly and when we neared the end of the scheduled rides, we decided to hop on and ride over to the party to see if they needed help there. My co- worker asked if I had put enough money in the parking meter to leave it there for the rest of the evening. That’s when it occurred to me that I had omitted to put money as it was a Sunday. I rushed out to go put some coins in before leaving for the reception. When I got to the lot, it took me a little while to realize that my car was not there. I first thought I was in the wrong lot and walked around the block to make sure. This was not my old smelly red car, it was my brand new blue car! Luckily I had it equipped with a boomerang. But was hesitant to call them as I could still hear the saleslady’s booming voice saying: “ there is a $250,00 fee if you misplace the car…say in a parking lot”…yeah! Like those old ladies with alzeimers! HA! Not me! But when my coworker confirmed that she had seen my car parked there, I felt confident enough to call them. They were very nice and said the first thing to do was to call the police to make sure the car had not been towed away. So I called the police who gave me the number of the towing company. I called the towing and they assured me they had not towed in that area all day. Then I called back the boomerang people so they would start the search. Then I called the police back, as they needed to fill out a report. They took all my information and told me to way for a patrol car. I was still standing on the street corner, holding my cellphone, in one hand, a binder in the other, and balancing my purse on my shoulder while trying to extract registration papers from my wallet. I was also writing down everything that had been left in the car: my morning clothes, my CD collection, a make up case, my favourite umbrella…I was down to the kleenex box when the phone rang: it was the police. They had found my car! I was impressed, they were faster than the boomerang service!! Guess what! It had not been stolen at all, it had been towed but by a different company than the one they told me to call. All I had to do now is go bail it out from a dingy place in a deserted alley. I was very impressed by the sign above the wicket: “everything you say and do is being recorded and will be used….” I can imagine that some people might get a tad aggressive… I almost was, when I tried to drive out of the holding pen. They had blocked my way with 2 other cars and the people there were just sitting there staring. When I backed up into a post one of them slowly got up and cleared the way.
I drove away feeling foolish but relieved.
I finally got to the reception. It was going full swing. Kids were running all over, their faces smeared with chocolate. There was an ice cream table with a chocolate fountain! There were clowns and balloons everywhere. There was also wonderful food… Later, much later, after everyone had gone and everything had been cleared, I got to take some photos of the old port at night. I seldom go there…and was seduced by the lights…
