Lights Out

Getting to sleep in my hotel was an adventure. Couldn't decide whether to risk taking the elevators or walk down 31 floors after power went out in the guest rooms. No TV, no radio and whatever charge you had left on your tablet, cell or laptop was what you had available in the way of communication and/or light.

What would you do? The elevators were somehow running but the phones weren't working and the hotel wasn't answering when you called the desk on your cell. What to do in Montreal, sacre bleu!

Me, I of course went down the elevator and wound up in a less than lively party in the lobby, accompanied by a bar sprinkled with disappointed drinkers and a desk clerk who had already been given a PR statement to repeat.

Instead, I walked outside, noticed the lights in buildings and on streets all around, except the one I was staying in, and took a picture looking straight up the dark tower. Is this a movie plot or a terrorist plot? Or both? I posted in on Facebook and got blasted about it by friend and relatives. Thanks a bunch.

Meanwhile, a ragged-looking woman walked by and asked me for money. Not for sex. Just panhandling. Uh, go away please.

Back inside, I took a bottle of water, one of several left out on the bar, and headed back to my room rather than join the rowdy guy who announced he was from New Jersey who was leading a trek of saloon stragglers over to the establishment next door that had lights on. He was enticing everyone with offers to drink for free ("On me," he kept yelling. "Drink for free."). He shook my hand on his way out and for some reason said, "Thank you." I said, "Pas de quoi." I think that means, "Go to that other bar already, will ya."

Back in my room, sans  HVAC, I somehow managed to fall asleep anyway, only to be awakened an hour or so later when the power popped back on. Did you ever hear power pop back on in French? Smells like old cheese. I turned on the TV just to confirm, but the drone of the air conditioning had already done that.

What a colourful evening. Uh, colorful. I louve Canada. Uh, love.

***

Speaking of Love, Kevin, that is, he is a Cavalier. Who would've thought that LeBron James, all by himself, could make Cleveland such a cool place to live?

Speaking of cool, Canandians - uh, Canadians - Andrew Wiggins and Anthony Bennett, the NBA Draft's last two No. 1 picks, are now Timberwolves in exchange for lotsa' Love.

Good luck with that Minnesota. The NBA doesn't care much for small-market teams, no matter what it says. Unless a superstar plays there. Like LeBron. Can Cleveland break though and win a title, thus becoming the champion of small markets? LeBron couldn't do it last time he was in Cleveland and he had some decent talent around him then. We'll see this time.

Besides, the Browns are still there. And the Indians.

As Olbermann would say,"Good night, Felicia."