tonight, the protest came to me

I wasn't sure what to make of the helicopter hovering deadly still high over my backyard. It could have had something to do with all the red police tape over by the crack houses up the alley.

But then that would have been a little over the top - even for a manhunt.

Instead, the little police bird was just sitting there eyeing the river of protesters washing through Little Italy, banging their pots and pans and doing their best to make their presence felt while the cops on bikes and cars, trucks and wagons trailed obediently. I wonder how many "patrons" and "clients" and "local business owners" were rolling their eyes at their own bad luck. And how many were clapping along, clinking their wine glasses in a show of support. I witnessed some of both. Amy and I just stayed silent and watched. Then we followed.

I realized I hadn't been in a protest march in a really long time. Quebec City and the FTAA seemed miles in my past, like a trophy that didn't mean anything any more. I'm not even sure I could frame the main arguments of either side in any great detail this time around. See, I have spent the last couple of years watching people in the news protest against everything from dictatorships to bank reform to condoms in high schools and evolution to nuclear mishaps, global warming and soul-crushing austerity. So my gut reaction to the student strikes here in Quebec was: Tuition hikes? Really?

I was missing the point. The sad truth is that we are all selfish and eager to rebuild the world in our image. Students want low tuition and Governments want more money. Business men want lower taxes and less regulation. Scientists want to solve and artists want to evolve.

The sadder truth is there's no way we're all getting what we want.

So we're all frustrated. Some people take to the streets with cutlery to make their points. Others use influence and little white envelopes. I think you can usually measure frustration by how loud someone kicks and screams for what they want. When you go silent, you have either gamed the system or given up on it altogether.

So you can either take to the street or bitch about the people who do just that. Simply saying protesters have nothing better to do is taking the lazy way out. They have a right to get theirs the same way you have a right to get yours. There will always be casualties. It's just the nature of the beast.

wade in the fire

what a day. what a night. what a weekend. hard to sum up all the emotions of the last two nights into proper sentences so I'll just lay it out it in fragments. pad barbecue. solar eclipses we never quite caught but some beautiful climbs up to the roof anyhow. tennis balls and power lines. delicious slices of salty Argentinean beef and plenty of beer to wash it down. music talk, protest talk. and more Lafleur hot dogs than I'm proud to admit. not enough sleep. and before i know it, Piknik Electronique. packing coolers in the metro with Davey Cleinfeld. not quite like old times but always good times. the unmistakable rumble out Jean Drapeau and the giant Star-Trek-looking monument overlooking the deceptively blue St. Laurence River. a perfect Montreal summer day in Spring. beautiful people and perfect strangers soaking in the sun. butterflies for Dubfire, sharing beer and water bottles. getting lost in the crowd and dancing like no one's watching. and that shit-eating grin you just can't wipe off your face.

anything to declare? yes, just my undying disgust

You really have to dig deep to find even a milligram of love for the US when you are passing through any of their borders.

It was almost five years ago that we took the same connecting flight through Miami via Costa Rica to get home. Back then, the wonderful folks at Customs and Immigration hadn't discovered the potential inconvenience of putting passengers in transit in the same, impossibly slow lines as those actually stepping foot into the country. We missed the flight and had to spend a night in Miami - and actually fight with American Airlines agents to pay for the hotel room. And no one ever even apologized once for the inconvenience.

Nothing has changed. And so once again, we were forced watch visitors get photographed, fingerprinted and mercilessly interrogated with little regard for those of us who still had to gather and re-check all our baggage and undergo security and run back a mile in the opposite direction to reach the boarding gate. It was a miracle we made the flight home. And not without a fight, lots of dirty looks from selfish travelers and a couple of minor cuts and bruises. If it weren't for a few understanding immigrants (yes, immigrants) we would have spent Easter in that God-forsaken airport. And I probably would have gotten myself arrested for threats against the State.

But it worked out - the way everything on this trip eventually did.

I am no America hater. I understand border agents have got a huge target of a country to protect and can't be worried about the travel itineraries of every last passenger. But if every other country in the world can figure out how to efficiently move passengers through an airport, maybe it's time the U.S. start taking some notes.

This way. guilty American travellers won't have to constantly feel obliged to apologize on behalf of their country every time the topic comes up.

Must get tiring after a while.