Yesterday, Friday, was my last day in Montreal. Did my usual drill in the morning. A little before noon, I hopped on the Metro to head down to the Underground City for some souvenir shopping. Before doing any of that, I had lunch at a pizza joint near the exit to McGill College. I love how in Montreal their pepperoni pizza has three-inch slices of pepperoni between the bread and cheese. Umm-yum! Of course, pig that I am, I had a plain slice, too.
After wondering around for an hour, I settled on a souvenir shop. I picked up biscuits for my work peeps and cookies for my family. For my goddaughter, I got a snow dog in a Canadian Mounty uniform; for my newest nephew (age nine months?), I got Canada white-and-blue socks. Oh, and it's my one uncle's 60th birthday party Sunday night, so I bought him a Canada cap -- he's a golfer . . . the cap was the closest thing to golf I could find (hope he likes it).
In the late afternoon, I just hung out at the B&B, catching up YouTube clips. Thanks The Young Turks and Russia Today!
Around eight o'clock, I headed out for a bite to eat. I cruised on a Bixi bike because I wasn't sure how far away this Portuguese place (recommended by my travel book) was from the B&B. Turns out I could've walked there, but it's a non-issue since they were all booked up. So I walked to my favourite strip, Avenue du Mont-Royal, and stumbled across an Italian restaurant called Pizzeria Romeo, which was spacious with a few patrons -- guess that's what happens when you're on busy avenue.
I sat at the bar. The woman who served was gorgeous: around 24 years old, long black hair and wearing Daisy Duke shorts. I ordered a screwdriver, which she made strong (what a switch!). I was in the mood for pasta. All they had in that vein was lasagne. It was awesome! Served on a slightly concave white dish on top of small beans in red sauce. For dessert, I went with bar maid's suggestion. Since the menu was in French, I'm not sure what it was. It was two scoops on a plate -- tasted like cake. Dee-lic-ious!!!
Here's where things got weird. The bar maid started hitting on me, big time. Strange, since I hadn't showered yet that day and was all scruffy. She's telling me she lives on Avenue du Mont-Royal and asking how much longer I was in town. Weird. It's not like I was on my game. Her flirting just came out of nowhere. The monogamist didn't see the point in pursuing it, since my flight was leaving in half a day; the paranoid prick in me thought it might be a scam. I don't know. Maybe I should've done something, but she was way out of league (I'm under no delusion of my sexual attraction; I'm not the village idiot but neither am I Lance Romance). Great, something else for me to agonize over. Could've that been the one? Damn, wish I met her earlier in the week. Oh well, onward and outward. . . .
Before shopping for souvenirs, I stumbled across the Montreal Canadiens' stadium. This (obviously) was outside.