Much though I love living in the Old Port in Montreal, there are times when I really could do with being elsewhere. Last night was a classic example, as are most weekend nights in summer. The bar down the road had some loud bass music going till 3am, combined with drunken folk wandering outside to have a cigarette or head home Generally while shouting at their friends at what they think is a reasonable volume. This with eardrums happily ignorant of the true quiet they are disturbing due to aforementioned loud bass. The old port streets are narrow, surrounded by tall buildings and no trees – so noise travels a long way and echoes – possibly even amplifies. You can probably imagine the range of noises this projects.
I’ve come to expect not getting to sleep till 4am on weekends now, this normally being the time that the last of the drunken revelers happily shout themselves home or to their cars with much slamming of doors. Last week it was members of one of the under-21 football teams celebrating their victory with an impromptu game of footie on the street. Normally at 4am I can finally sink into a few blissful hours of sleep. I say ‘few’ as this morning my brief downtime was bookended by some bright sparks from the road works department digging up the road at 8am. On a frikkin’ Saturday! I think the mentality is; well we have to be up early on a Saturday, so let’s share the love. Argh!
So now it’s 10am. The drilling has stopped – all work finished (so surely they could have waited a few hours?) – but I’m wide awake and the tourists are now here enjoying the over-priced coach rides and blocking cars with loudly pumping bass coming from their open windows.