As the skyline, lit by the morning sun, stretched
across the horizon, I crossed the Jacques Cartier bridge, turned left at my
first opportunity, made a wide loop to the right, then back to the left before
finding myself on a picturesque cobblestone road in the middle of an eighteenth century Paris village, or so it seemed. I slowed down to admire the
centuries-old architecture and the immaculate greystones, with their ornate
wrought-iron staircases, that towered over my little Volkswagen Beetle and me.
Each greystone I passed had a terrace that was decorated with whatever fancied
their residents, and almost all of them fancied brightly colored
flowers. It was early and there wasn't a soul to be seen. I rolled
down my window so I could smell the fresh morning air and listen to the absence
of noise.
I was in an urban section of old Montreal, a city
in the Canadian province of Quebec. Traveling to this incredibly beautiful city
wasn't something I'd planned; it was a surprise. A mystery trip, you could say.
One minute I was home dreaming about something forgettable, and the next minute
I was on an exciting adventure in another country.
I followed the cobblestone road as it made its
crooked way through this quaint and peaceful village that I didn't want to
leave. My trip could begin and end on this road as far as I was concerned. But
just as I was getting comfortable in the centuries old village, the road ended
abruptly. I was now thrust back into the twenty-first century at the
intersection of Saint and Boulevard something. Stone-faced
pedestrians crowded the sidewalk a few feet away from my car yet not one person
looked at my Beetle bug or me. As the light turned in their favor, they all
hurried off the curb and fast walked to the opposite corner, each one careful
not to make contact with their walking stranger. Tailgating cars filled the
intersection and then came to a stop just as the light turned green for me.
Horns blared from all around as if the obnoxious behavior could magically clear
a path for its rude and impatient drivers.
After turning right at Boulevard something,
I tailgated at ten miles an hour for two hours before deciding I could explore
the city of Montreal better on foot. I parked my blue Beetle on a side street
with a French name that I couldn't pronounce, locked my purse and cell phone in
the trunk for safe keeping, and walked another four hours before finally
finding myself at my destination: the center of Montreal, or so I thought. But
I was wrong. I was nowhere near downtown Montreal. I had taken a wrong turn
hours before, and now I was far from the city and in an area that looked in
need of repair. Buildings were boarded up, trash was strewn across the sidewalk
and people were sleeping inside doorways.
The sun was going down, it was getting cold, and I had
an uneasy feeling. If only I hadn’t left everything in the Beetle; my sweater,
purse and cell phone couldn’t help me now. All I needed to do was retrace my steps back to where I had
parked my car, but it had been hours ago and many left and right turns.
I walked a few blocks in the direction from where I
thought I had come, but there were no familiar landmarks. There was a large
cathedral sitting in silhouette to the west of where I stood. Had I passed it
on my way here? I couldn’t recall. I turned right at the church and walked one
block north, but nothing looked familiar there either. I walked back to the
church thinking I could find help there, but the doors were boarded shut with No Trespassing signs nailed to the
doors. As I stood staring at the sign, something hard landed on my back. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. I ran
down the steps, across the street, and into a vestibule that was occupied by a
sleeping homeless man. In an effort to hide, I slid down between him and the
door, and, and, and…
I noticed the breath first. Rotten fish.
The kiss was wet and sloppy. The tongue was relentless. I opened my eyes and
what did I see but a seven pound Yorkie standing over me. "Wake up!
Wake up!" she said. "So, what's it gonna be this morning, a game of fetch the ball, a walk outside, or am I gonna have to lick your face
off?"
