Tuck Goes to Montreal

Last weekend I went on a class trip. Ironically I’m not in the fifth grade, nor am I currently a student, but those facts aside… it was totally a class trip. Essentially last weekend the whole of Tuck relocated to Montreal. Why, you may ask? Why did we, already solidly in Northern territory, deliberately venture FURTHER north in JANUARY?

Actually Montreal was quite mild. Seriously. We’re talking low thirties, all weekend. It was glorious; I didn’t have to wear a hat!

And yes my perspective on “mild” has shifted slightly. Seriously, this morning, it was snowing as I walked to work and I was SWEATING. I think the fleece liners for my boots may have been overkill.

Anyway, Montreal. We were there ostensibly for a sporting event, a series of three games (one soccer, two hockey) with a Canadian Business School, Concordia (The Molson School of Business at Concordia, no less.) We were actually there to hang out in Canadian bars, drink, dance and make American-style idiots of ourselves. We did all of the above.

Dan and I drove up after work (for me) on Friday. We were stopped briefly at the border where Dan proceeded to forget our home state.

Officer: Where are you from?

Dan: Um… I know this… (long pause) Vermont. I mean New Hampshire.

Vermont?

Officer: What is your purpose in Canada?

Dan: Um. My school is going. I’m in business school. Tuck. Dartmouth. Tuck. Um.

Officer, to second officer: Did he say his whole business school is going to Canada? (incredulous stares.)

We’re lucky we weren’t arrested at the border. It was a totally fishy story.

Friday night’s “event” was a bar scene in old Montreal called Les Deux Pierrots. Dan and I arrived on the early side (having checked into our hotel late and eaten dinner on the road.) And by early I mean we were among the first there. This would’ve been ok, except that apparently my French (which has sadly deteriorated) was merely good enough that they refused to speak to me in English but not quite good enough that I actually understood them all that well.

Les Deux Pierrots had, ironically, two parts. One was a standard sports bar. The other was a small concert venue. Live performers played and sang, mostly in French and occasionally in imitation of Johnny Cash. You haven’t heard Johnny Cash until you’ve heard him played by a French-Canadian wearing a camo hat and putting on a southern drawl. It’s almost impossible to describe.

Anyway, there we were watching the performance of a lifetime (me straining to pick up the French commentary, which I gathered was mostly jokes directed at we Americans – not that I’m blaming him,) when in came the second years.

One thing I should mention about the Tuck second years. They don’t mix with the first years, as a rule. They have a separate curriculum, vacation schedule, etc, etc, and maybe that explains it. This particular group rolled in in force. They were old friends. They knew this bar. They spoke French. They were too cool for school, basically. I felt like we were in a bad high school movie and we were the freshmen (they were the “cool” seniors.) Ten minutes later one of them leans over and asks us if we’re with Tuck.

We were like “seriously?” Then they went back to ignoring us.

Eventually of course the bar filled in, we bonded and mingled and don’t get me wrong: some of the second years are VERY nice.

Saturday we decided to explore the city. Montreal is beautiful, actually. Grey-stoned buildings, a beautiful setting. Dan and I ignored all that. Because it turns out Montreal ALSO has a fantastic underground network of shopping malls.

Shopping aside, it’s pretty fascinating actually. The connected network of shopping malls was built around the existing structures, which means it twists and turns and narrows and expands unpredictably. The architecture varies, the shops are numerous… it was super fun, for a while. (Dan and I both tire of stale air after a while.) I bought a new shirt and we only ran into… four Tuckies? (and one on the way?)

Saturday evening we bussed over to the ice rink for the main event: two hockey games. Our B-team and our A-team. Tragically we lost both games. I know nothing about hockey but I’m not really sure how we could possibly have incurred four penalties in the final two minutes (when we were tied in overtime.) I don’t want to SAY the game was called in their favor, but…

Then again most of our A-team (and a good chunk of our B-team) is Canadian so… how much credit could we really claim even if we had won?

Hockey, aside, the game was a great place to meet and bond with Dan’s fellow students. So much so that at one point I look up to find Dan in deep and passionate discourse with a guy I had never seen before. Forty-five minutes later I get the story. His name is Alexis and he’s an exchange student at Tuck coming from LBS (London Business School.)

Ironically he’s from DC and – did I mention he went to Clemson? Their passionate conversation? Totally about the ACC.

After the game and one very heroic cab hailing by our friend Morgan (oh did I mention the bus left without us stranding us at the hockey rink somewhere outside Montreal?) we made our way to Winston Churchill’s – the bar of the night. Winston’s had three floors (two of them devoted to dancing.) We hadn’t had any dinner, and let me tell you, French onion soup goes surprisingly well with pounding you-can-feel-it-in-your-chest bass.

And then, many hours later we ventured back to our hotel, ending the evening with the brie and proschiutto panini I “had to have” from room service. I was sleep before it arrived.

One final note: our first morning we met a bunch of Tuck students in the hotel lobby on their way to brunch. Their destination? A popular Canadian restaurant chain: EGGSPECTATIONS.

For those of you from Centreville, I think you can imagine our reaction.