I have beer in my shoe. Plug your ears Part 2

There are worse places to be than Montreal on a Saturday night. Especially Place Jaques Cartier.

Lunch:
espresso, caesar salad with smoked salmon, Unibroue Blonde, and a glass of Toscana red wine.

Dinner:
Salmon Lasagna absolutely smothered in cream sauce and melted cheese. 2 bottles of Boreal Rouse, a glass of Argentinian red, two whole grain buns with butter. Absolutely yummy.

The lasagna was fantastic but I'd be lying if I was to say my favourite carb-loading material was anything other than beer. Dangerous territory I know. AND I will admit the evening before the biggest race of my year I drank wayyyyyyy too much of it.

The amount of calories does not even beg to be questioned, it's high and I hope to burn them off soon enough. But I'm not willing to contemplate all the implications at this point.

Post dinner I managed to catch one of Montreal's cultural phenomenon: M Festival. Local Montreal bands rocking out for free on the river-front. Here's the catch: bands that DON'T SUCK. One of the wonderful ladies working at the restaurant was able to tell me about the concert before I left. I am forever greatful and can never forget her smile. I enjoyed the concert immensely.

I caught the tail end of some random band in lab coats, they were...meh. But afterward:
I had a beer. * Please note that all beers from here on in are TALL cans of Sapporo. They were only selling tall cans the very concept alone is near and dear to me. But $6 each, at a concert. Honestly I was happily surprised as I would expect to pay more for a tall can of something not urine-based at something like this.

Also note that beer on average is about 75 calories per 200ml. I drank a weeeeeee bit more than that.

The bands:
Winter Gloves, scrawny metrosexual college boys boys wanting to be Weezer flashed-back ala 1985 but coming off more as Goat Punisher with more balls. They were energetic and fun. I dig.
Afterward:
I had a beer.

Days Months Years, the only non-Montreal band, from Toronto which "oddly" solicited a level of initial boo-ing until they actually started playing. They were a spastic celebration of everything cathartic and dyscordant in music and in desperate need of ritalin. Pink Floyd with more metal and techno. Vocals weren't sung so much as embelished as any other instrument, they were simply there adding to the din. Every member of the band save the bassist swapped instruments throughout the show showing their versatility. I dig.
Afterward:
I had a beer.

Some Random Cock-Metal-Hair-Metal-Big-Metal band, they were fun, no name was given in english that I could discern, no need to. The singer was wearing all leather and had his fly down on his leather pants and wearing a sleeveless shirt under his leather saying "Wolf Fucker", smashed open a can of beer on his head soaking his long hair-metal hair and proceeded to sing hair-metal like I'd never heard before. I dig. AND I don't even like hair-metal.
Afterward:
I had a beer.

Priestess: evidently a local headbanging favourite that not being from Mon-ree-ALL I'd never heard of before. The crowd was up in arms almost immediately singing along. The bassist from previous cock-metal/hair-metal band I think, well at least appeared to be the lead guitarist/singer of Priestess...though I could be wrong. Much headbanging ensued and I had a blast in the pit. Moshing and giving the "rawr" devil sign with complete random strangers as only a metal concert allows. I highly dig.

I did not have another beer. I had run out of cash.

Closing out the night the mighty rockers Voivod. They were fun. A bunch of old fat guys doing what they do best, and it was good.

Voivod, who I've heard of but not properly heard ... evidently are old Montreal legends and even speak to having Jason (who replaced the late and infinitely awesome Cliff Burton in Metallica) Newsted as past-bassist/producer and I was evidently watching history making itself and didn't realize it until now. Jason Newsted wasn't there but Voivod was still on form.

I regret nothing. The enormity of what faces me in less that 9 hours is not lost upon me especially now that my neck and every other part of me aches beyond belief.

Now it's midnight and I have to run off this f***'n salmon lasagna and numerous beers off in the morning for 42.2 F***'n kilometres. Holy hell.

If there was ever a better example of my old saying as there was now, I could not have imagined:

Eat and drink whatever the hell you want, just be prepared to work it off.

I'd dropped that one on Flocons numerous times over the years. Well now I'm about to eat my own words. I regret nothing. Least of all Montreal on a Saturday night.