Seen along a walk through the streets Montreal in winter

Where’s my camera when I need it? Here are just a few snapshots of a typical snowy December night in Montreal:

• A little car, entirely buried in a snowbank so that only the top of the roof is showing. Right next to it, written clearly in the snowbank in large block letters: FUCK!
• Here’s one way to avoid getting your bicycle stolen: chain it to a lamppost and allow it to get buried 90% deep in snow.
• A group of parents standing around outside Lucien-L’Allier metro station chatting, while their children stand atop a 30-foot mountain of snow and toss snowballs at one another.
• A snowplow driver, who stops in the middle of clearing the street to chat with a tow truck driver. Hi, how’s it going?
• A couple, him in a checkered keffiyah, her in a red tuque with pom-pom, walking in Carre St-Louis holding hands. I catch a snippet of conversation (hers): “But when Israel was created in 1948, the UN proposed a two-state solution!”
• A group of people standing outside one of the Greek restaurants on Prince-Arthur that all have the same name, wearing nothing heavier than a suit jacket, smoking cigarettes and conversing with each other in at least four different languages.
• A 20-something guy with a backpack, walking down Lucien-L’Allier, gets to the tunnel and suddenly takes a running start and skids, sideways, halfway down the hill in the snow. Stumbles a little but doesn’t fall. Resumes walking as though nothing happened.

They say it’s supposed to rain this weekend. Feh. I hope they’re wrong.