Park Drinking

Guess what? Montréal is a hellish frozen wasteland for 6 months out of the year. We’re not just talking a little nippy here, we’re talking Jack-Frost-sucking-your-eyes-out-and-making-love-to-your-ocular-sockets cold. When the sun shines, locals completely lose their shit and start frolicking among the trees like little French-speaking hippie wood nymphs. Why spend a sweltering summer night cooped up in a bar, when you can pick up a mickey at the SAQ or a 40 at a dépanneur? I’ll take it “pour emporter.”

PARC CHARLES-MAYER: (Corner Montcalm W. and Ontario) Named after the guy who invented the Three Stars in NHL hockey, it’s all brick with a few trees, and it’s one of the only places you can get mugged without leaving downtown. Plus it’s a stone’s throw from the needle exchange and the bus depot, so the “Dans La Rue” bus (an RV that serves free hot dogs to the poor) is usually parked nearby.
Drink of Choice: A mickey of “Alcool 40%” PARC MORGAN: (Corner Ste. Catherine and Morgan) This park is way the fuck in the East End, but if you’re looking to have a Leaving Las Vegas type of adventure in Montréal, this park’s a great place to stage your final high dive. An old stone stage overlooks a concrete square, where you can go stark raving mad and shout at the drunks sleeping in the overgrown horseshoe pits. And after you’re done going crazy, collect yourself underneath the four giant pillars pissing out psychedelic mists of water from 10 AM till sundown.
Drink of Choice: A handle of vodka with whiskey chaser ONTARIO AND PAPINEAU PARK: This sterile park could easily be mistaken for a suburban golf course and has no particular charm other then a fountain where you could drown yourself in the shadow of a Gothic church. What makes it fun is the south side, where all the crusties dry out before hitchhiking back to whatever rock they crawled out from under.
Drink of Choice: A 40 of Black Label Force Ten: one part hallucinogenic, one part 10-percent beer, 10 parts instant hangover. Also known as Instant Hobo. PARC BOLDUC: (Corner Rachel and Berri) Along the rustic cobblestone street of Duluth is a wealth of “bring your own wine” restaurants catering to well-groomed guys and gals of all ages. At Parc Bolduc, you can watch the beautiful people go by and holler slanderous things they won’t understand as you sink slowly into a stinking, glorious wino stupor. It’s got nice coverage too, so you could easily fuck in the bushes before passing out on the kids’ slide.
Drink of Choice: Marquis de Maricourt 1 litre (white wine). Available at most dépanneurs. PARC JEANNE MANCE: (On Mont Royal) Montréal has always been Canada’s metal capital partly ’cause when your shit hits the fan, you can literally run to the hills. Every Sunday when there isn’t a foot of snow on the ground, the hippies and medievalists come here to get naked and play bongos, attack each other with foam broadswords, and sell crappy homemade jewelery, while an entire mountainside of people baked off their asses smile at the menacing cops on horseback.
Drink of Choice: Everybody drinks out of bottles here, so pick up a six-pack of cans and the cops’ll move on to beat up someone else. CARRÉ ST. LOUIS (Corner Laval and St. Denis): One beautiful day, as the fountain at the center of Carré St. Louis glittered like a diamond, I overheard a socks-and-sandals tourist exclaim, “What a beautiful park.” Just around the corner, knee-deep in the fountain, a deranged lunatic was dancing with a shopping cart shouting, “Just once more around the block,” while all sorts of freaks, drug addicts, and drunks on various rungs of the ladder of regret, hung out doing their own thing. If it’s nice and sunny, happy hour starts at around 10 AM.
Drink of Choice: The Hobo Special (a 40 of Labatt 50)