The problem with Montreal nightlife is...the drinks. After about 20 vodka/pineapples, I still hadn't gotten a buzz. Turns out nobody else had either! They have a cap on each pour of about, um, 1ml of booze. So in Montreal, we alcoholics turn to drinking BEER (can you believe it?) at the bar because at least they can't mess with the alcohol content of beer.
After figuring out that racket, we started drinking in our hotel room and smuggling our own hooch to the club. Problem solved! Once sufficiently liquored up, I actually look forward to leaving the club, so I can devour a 3 am plate of Montreal's deliciously disgusting POUTINE.
When I think about Poutine now, during the day, it actually makes me nauseous. This "cuisine" is a jumble of 1) french fries, 2) gravy, and 3) cheese curds. If you're really feeling decadent, you can order the deluxe version which comes with peas and chicken chunks. Eww! What sick fuck invented this recipe?
In Montreal, I eat it every night. Poutine is the best drunk food since the greasy bacon-wrapped hot dogs they sell late-night on Santa Monica Boulevard.
Poutine Carnage: it felt like a good idea at the time.