The following anecdote is real – it is not the result of the author’s extensive imagination.

The other day I had to go to Dorval to pick up some mail from my Aunt’s place. Returning to Lionel-Groulx around 3pm I decided to take the Metro to Atwater, and thus went with the crowd exiting the 211, coming down the stretch bordered by benches. A very old woman, I’d say in here late 80s and not looking very healthy, sat in a wheelchair alongside the last bench. She made eyes with me – they were alarmed. Figuring she might be in distress I ventured over. In a thick St-Henri patois she asked me if I she could borrow two minutes of my time. She launched into a pre-scripted rant about how she worked for an NGO which aimed to assist poor Columbian agriculturalists develop sustainable methods and make ecologically sound decisions. She then says that for a small fee I can help these poor, downtrodden individuals – at this point she whips out a baggie filled with white powder. For fifteen dollars, she’d sell me what she called ‘fairtrade cocaine’.

I took me a while for my jaw to wind itself back up towards the rest of my head. Beyond weird, it as a solid what the fuck.

By the way, found this.