St. Catherine's St.

Our night on the town, cleverly planned by Nicole and myself, was supposed to involve dancing in order to celebrate a successful trip.  So we headed out in the direction of St. Catherine's Street, as directed by the concierge at the hotel.  

The best way to describe St. Catherine's Street is to compare it to the Strip in Myrtle Beach.  If you're not familiar with that particular stretch of Ocean Boulevard that runs by where the Pavilion used to be, then think about a one-mile stretch of road that is packed with people, cars cruising with the windows rolled down and the music turned up, and restaurants, bars, tourist traps, and strip clubs lining the sidewalk.  Then think about all of those folks decked out in Montreal Canadiens gear, and think about them all speaking French.  Now you're on St. Catherine's Street.

Before we left for Montreal, the residents at the Rescue Mission warned me about St. Catherine's Street.  Well, they didn't actually warn me, they told me that St. Catherine's Street was where everyone went when they visited Montreal, and that I should definitely try to go and hang out there.  Now I know why.  Montreal's legal drinking age is 18, and I'm sure the admitting age into the bars and strip clubs is also 18.  It makes a lot of sense when I think about our clients letting me know all about St. Catherine's Street, they probably all had lots of experience.  

We walked on St. Catherine's Street for a while, looking for a dance club called "Thursday's."  After passing several strip clubs, being solicited to go inside because of the "beautiful women," and having Nicole and Lindsey "checked out" by some really sketchy dudes, we found "Thursday's" in a line of other clubs and bars on a side street off of St. Catherine's.  We walked inside, and were really disappointed with what we found.  Instead of loads of people dancing and living it up, all we found was loud music - and some really old, really scandalously dressed people.  There were three or four folks dancing, and we were all feeling pretty uncomfortable at this point, but we found a table in the corner and had a seat.  Almost immediately a waitress came to our table and asked if we wanted anything, and I ordered a Labatt Bleue.  Nicole and Lindsey followed suit, and before we knew it, the waitress had three bottles of the Canadian Budweiser at our table.  The kicker is that it was $6...per bottle.  That's right - three bottles of Canadian Budweiser was $18.  We were shocked - and dismayed - because Labatt Bleue is, well, terrible.  We were upset that there wasn't really any dancing going on, and we were getting tired, as well.  We had had a long day, so we finished our beer and decided to head back to the hotel.  As we walked out of "Thursday's," we noticed another door, above which a sign read, "Thursday's Club."  We had completely missed the entrance to the dance club, but at this point were utterly exhausted and ready to call it a day.  We walked back to the hotel, got some snacks from Nicole's car, and very soon after went to sleep.

Notice the bottle of Labatt Bleue - it is terrible.

Lindsey and Nicole at Thursday's.