When I was fourteen I convinced my parents to drive me and my friend James to Montreal so we could go to Lollapalooza. That hot day left a number of indelible traces on my mind. I remember the blue sky and wispy clouds as we drove through mysterious Quebec, and then seeing the streets of Montreal for the first time. They were so busy! My parents let us off on a street corner and pointed in the direction of the Metro, reminding us to change trains "at Barry YOU-kwam."
On Ile Sainte-Helene there was a long line to get in. We could hear the music muffled by wide open space. When we got to the front of the line and gave them our tickets, they searched our bags, adding our bottles of water to the pile of frisbees and even cameras that had been seized. It seemed unfair. Once inside, we sat in the dusty field and walked around. Most of the crowd was older than us; I remember a lot of topless men wearing shorts and backwards baseball caps and a few topless women wearing body paint.
I liked all the music, especially this song and the Beastie Boys's set. Also Nick Cave played "Red Right Hand" and A Tribe Called Quest played "Scenario."
After the concert James and I went to the train station with the big Canadiana friezes in blue and white, where we were supposed to meet my parents. They were an hour late when I called my grandmother, our contact person if anything went wrong. What was going to become of us? I woke her up and felt bad. My parents had died in a car crash and now I was robbing her of a good night's sleep. It was turning into an episode of Degrassi. I guess I would have to live with her now. (My parents eventually showed up, two hours late.)
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