Montreal Me, Please

I call a Uber... the app says the car is 6 minutes away. 4.6 stars I am excited. I throw some good sneakers to the side to go with me and also to kick ass and make a move if need be. I grab a black hat to add a touch of mystery. If it were not dusk, I would throw on some shades too just to top it off. I see the car is two mins away. I make a speedy exit ensuring that I hit the sidewalk at the same time the driver should be arriving. I make my way down through the lobby. Perfect timing, I can see the car approaching. He stops in the middle of the road and yells out the window, Corey!? I roll my eyes and nod as I hop in the back with my Coach trekker bag. My anxiety causes me to check behind us repeatedly. My driver runs the red light by a few seconds. If I was being followed he definitely took care of it. After a relaxing ride to Hartsfield-Jackson, I caught my flight to New York City. At JFK, I took the train southbound to the last stop in Rockaway Park. A five-minute walk around the corner and I was at the apartment on the beach I use to call home. The next morning Remy and I had breakfast at the TWA Hotel before catching our flight to Montreal. I feel more at ease traveling than I am sitting at home or perhaps it's just being Atlanta. After a quick flight, we had to take the Societe de transport aka the bus to the nearest train station. It was strange in a good way. There was low classical music playing throughout and no one was talking. At the train station, we quickly found our way to the Place Des Art station. Seeing all the directions in French put everything into perspective. We were finally out of the country. Locating our loft was easy, just a short walk down Park Avenue. It's cloudy but that doesn't take away from the stunning French-inspired architecture. I could get used to this. The second stop is weed. I consider quitting but who am I kidding, there are too many benefits. After dropping off our bags we appear as locals blending in with the crowd as we make our way down the sidewalk of a busy and bustling city. In New York City as you cross every intersection you are sure to see more buildings, cabs, and people. Here we cross the intersections and you can see mountains in the distance. We crossed the intersection of Saint-Catherine Street and I try capturing this beauty before the traffic light changed. We now look like tourists again. I can't help but think of how grateful I am for the company and this breathtaking scenery. I'm surrounded by beauty. We make it to SQDC an actual storefront where people of all kinds, races, and backgrounds come together for a common panacea. The line was out the door as you can imagine. Finally inside and bombarded by too many options we chose a hybrid and made a dash back for our Airbnb before it starts raining. The morning comes and we make our way to " the cafe" a quaint little bistro that serves my favorite meal of the day, breakfast. After our walk through the park nearby we went to old Montreal to ride the ferris wheel "La Grande Roue de Montréal." The uneven cobblestone feels historic under the souls of my feet. I should've paid in advance for our tickets but luckily no one was in line. The pod we're in begins to sway back in forth from the strong winds and my heart is in my throat. We're stories above the ground, imminent death seems so close. Beautiful sights were accompanied by terror as the unforgiving winds continued to rock our enclosure back and forth. Grateful to have my feet back on the ground we braved the harsh winds to our next adventure. Remy wanted to do some shopping, so that's exactly what we did. A few of the malls are connected underground with a tunnel it's quite amazing. It makes me wonder why America doesn't have more underground means of commuting. On our way back to Place de Arts Station I surprise Remy with a detour. He loves ice cream cake so for his birthday I took the liberty of finding a Baskin Robin in Montreal. I love the smile I'm responsible for putting on his face. We continued our night in the infamous red-light district for drinks. Due to the rain, the scene didn't live up to its expectations. He keeps talking about wanting to stay and buy property here. I'm reminded of how spontaneous and sometimes the outlandish mind can be. We finally make it back to the flat in the cold dark rain and intoxicated... I grab his cake out of the freezer and then I realize we don't have any candles... and I refuse to go back out in the freezing rain to search for some. I can tell he's pissed with me. My unwillingness to be inconvenienced shouldn't overshadow the entire day, should it? I can tell he's angry with me. We end the night with lovemaking and I hope that all is forgiven but I can’t seem to shake this one small act that may have tarnished the whole trip.