Here is what I say to the asshole who designed the border crossing traffic control and construction zone that forced us into a two hour traffic jam as well as the border guard who then directed his colleagues to search our car and personal belongings for no discernable reason on the way back from Montreal.
Here is a super-cute pic of my lover wrapped in the Pride flag. We took some naughtier pics as well of me, but those will forever be relegated to the deep archives of my computer, never to see the light of day!
Saturday we began the day hiking a couple miles up to a simply charming little vegetarian restaurant that had a really nice outdoor patio and excellent food. Then we headed back down to the Village and hit the all-day Pride music festival going on there. During the day there was only one stage going, with music with an international flair, but later another stage would start up (SexGarage), with raunchier, harder rock music, as well as the stage where the drag show took place.
When we went into the nearby McDonalds to use the bathroom, I forced Jenn to sit with me and eat some fries - they taste about the same as down here by the way. While we were dining in the internationally-recognized luxery of the typical fast-food joint, an old man bumped into me on his way out (I believe purposefully as became apparent later). As the instictive "pardon" spilled out of my mouth in response, he recognized that we spoke english. He then came over to our table and complimented us on how beautiful we were and then proceeded to tell us, in broken english that was somehow extremely charming and disarming at the same time, some bits about his life as well as grill us about ours.
His nickname was Marcel and I placed him at about mid-late 60's in age. He claimed to be a painter and that his wife had died many years before. He then launched into questioning us and he seemed intrigued (or turned on or both) by the fact that we were lesbians. Through all this he was telling us how great we looked and he was leaning next to me and ocassionally stroked my forearm. I could tell right away that he was getting his jollies out of this touching, but he was about as harmless and innocent as can be, so I let it slide. Hell, I was enjoying this conversation - a little local color. Anyways, the guy was tres charming and after about 20 minutes of conversation and a couple not so subtle hints that we were about to leave, he departed by (first kindly asking our permission to) kiss us adieu on both cheeks. Jenn and I made our way back to the music festival. I wished I had thought to take a picture of all of us together.
When night fell, the drag extravaganza started. Called Mascara, it is a yearly event organized and emceed by the always witty queen of Quebec herself, Lady Mado. Anyways, since Jenn loves to look at the drag queens and I like seeing the good spectacles of bad music, outrageous costumes and clever choegraphy, I got us up close. The show was absolutely spectacular. Each number was intricately choreographed with at least a handful of performers and sometimes with dozens. Songs ranged from Pat Benatar to folk dance to Rent and the costumes, of course, were dazzling. The show lasted 2 hours, but Jenn and I couldn't last that long. When we left, there were thousands of people behind us, most watching the show on a big double-sided projection screen that they had hoisted up for all to see. Some pics of the show are below:
This is Jenn and I at the famous Mado's Cabaret late Saturday night, following a long day of outdoor music, drag show, beers and walking around. 
We met up there with my long-time cross-border Quebecois compadre, the always beautiful Jessica. and partied until about 1 or 2am. The next day we headed home and unsurprisingly, got pulled over and all our stuff searched. The border guards were all very nice about it though.
