So at 10PM in Montreal we set out on our maiden voyage of the dirty old men club to seek trouble in whatever form we could identify it. Included in the docket for the evening were standard bachelor party plans including at a minimum naked women and excessive consumption of alcohol.

We figured we would warm-up our trouble making skills on the Brahmin beautiful people of Montreal by hitting the top nightlife locations. The first stop on our tour was the hippest dance club in Montreal called W. Since Falkoff’s wife Zoe was friends with the bouncer from their health club we figured that we would have no problem getting past their bluff of a full guest list. The bouncer was very nice about why he couldn’t let us in so we went for our Vegas special charm – money. “OK, How much do you want?” asked Robert but the guest list was a glass ceiling to our crowd? The bouncer wished us good luck on our bachelor party evening and we pressed on for a door that would be open to us. Kilimnik may have had the wrong shoes but we will never know.

So a few minutes later we found ourselves playing quarters at Peel pub. Peel pub is best known in Montreal for being the college pub that was shut down for having recycled beer. It is the type of place that we were highly impressed with when we took the AEPi fraternity up to Montreal to see the film festival after rush because it had the same college atmosphere and mini-dance floor as Boston’s own Cask and Flagon. Playing quarters reminded me of the time that Scorzelli got drunk for the first time and we put hundreds of chinks into his mother’s kitchen table as we banged quarters into it. As we realized that chugging beers wasn’t going to get us drunk enough Kilimnik called out for tequila shots to get us rolling even faster and then the waitress poured a shot in my mouth. Once the last quarter hit the last beer we were back on our way.

After having been to strip clubs in more than one state and country I like to compare the differences between them. Jeremy is more of an expert than I am. My best experience at a strip club was in Toronto at the Brass Rail. Philip had taken me there and hadn’t told me what it was. So I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived to find Philip sitting with his C-cup implant Asian girlfriend and her friend from Texas who was up for the weekend for a threesome that he had selected a stripper for me and rushed me into the back room for a lap dance. While at the Brass Rail we were all quite certain that we saw Keefer Sutherland relaxing with a crowd of movie folks in the front row. We didn’t bother the movie stars but the strippers kept coming one after the other in an endless stream to tempt us to have a lap dance with them. This was the great thing about Toronto – the ratio of strippers to people going to a strip club was very high so you could sit and chat with the strippers who knew they were going to work for it. Among the other great things about the Brass Rail when I was there was that a lap dance for one song was $10 Canadian. Since the exchange rate was great this was only about $7 American and a steal compared to Boston’s main low budget strip club, The Glass Slipper, where buying a $300 miniature bottle of champagne for a girl gets you the same lap dance that you get in Toronto for $7. Toronto was like going to a waterslide park where the entrance fee is $5 and there are no lines for the slides. So Montreal was selected as a good place to go for a bachelor party because like Toronto it was also in Canada.

Now among the great moments at strip clubs in my past was a time in New York on 42nd street. I was there with Jeremy and I had been sold on the whole lap dance thing by a brunette wearing a police officer spandex swimsuit with short sleeves. She plunked down on my lap went into her routine. I had placed my phone into vibrate mode before entering to a potential faux-pas but I hadn’t thought about the problem that a vibrating cell phone while a stripper is dancing on your lap could also be a problem. About two minutes into the dance the phone started to vibrate in my pocket. Every few minutes the phone went back to vibrate so after I cut the dance short I used the callerID to figure out who had called me. It was about one in the morning and the many calls were all from my parents’ house in Newton. Since they had called so often I got the feeling of dread that something had gone wrong and they needed desperately to get in touch with me. So I called back to have my father answer anxiously. He let me know that he had gotten a very strange phone call from my phone earlier in the evening that sounded like there was some sort of a struggle but the sound had been muffled. So my parents were calling to find out what had happened. So the lesson learned was that you should probably avoid leaving your phone on at all during an involved lap dance because cell phones enjoy playing pranks on you like automatically dialing your parents when someone is sitting on your lap.

So at the bachelor party we hit our first strip club. The club was not like the Brass Rail and we had to demystify the etiquette and rules for Montreal strip clubs. Apparently they have more demand than in Toronto which explains the larger number of clubs but the clubs are divided into two categories – contact (like club supercontact) and clubs like the one which we were at (club supernocontact). This causes all sorts of problems including the hotter girls being at the no contact clubs and the less interesting ones appearing in the no contact clubs. So we instead were entertained by a francophone man who was chubby and wearing glasses that had been convinced by his friends who had paid to embarrass him on stage. As he danced on stage three strippers collectively undressed him until he was completely naked naked. The strippers then whipped him with his own belt and then brought out black permanent markers and wrote on his back with the markers in French. Throughout this process the MC was barking out complex sets of commands also spoken in French. My big fear as I watched this was less that my friends would place me in an equally embarrassing scenario but that because my French isn’t that good if I were in the same situation I would be unable to understand the complex commands while being beaten and marked on stage. So Kilimnik and I got together in a corner for a “private dance”, not to be confused with a lap dance, with an Asian stripper who was on day three of her stripping carreer and had braces on both her top and bottom sets of teeth. We didn’t spend much time actually being entertained by her stripping but instead DK used the opportunity to do extensive research into stripper rules and the lay of the land in Montreal for finding full contact clubs and beyond.

Among the other research that was being done in the background I overheard someone saying - “Do I look like a prostitute to you?”. I actually passed the asian girl again while walking outside on Monday near Rue St. Arthur as she ducked into a clothing store but I decided that we didn’t have enough in common to re-aquaint myself outside of our meeting place.

We went onwards to club number two where I was left alone with a stripper doing a personal table dance. Dismissed after three or four songs. I suspected more research activity was underway.

The results of the research was that the strip clubs in Montreal aren’t that great and we were going to relax a bit and go to a dance club bar to have some fun dancing. We moved to a club that looked like it was rocking inside with a big dance floor and a big bar. I flirted with the coat check girls who mainly just wanted my coat. Once inside I spotted a gaggle of about six young women wearing glow jewelry. I approached them to see if any of them wanted to dance but a local idiot guy standing next to them gave a guardian comment – You are too old for these girls.” Falkoff rummaged-up a bachelorette party on the dance floor and I danced with the bride to be but we just didn’t click just because of our equivalent pending pre-marital status. Somehow we lost Robert inside and he disappeared. We waited around and speculated that he had gone home somewhere with some loose women but the more likely answer confirmed when we got home was that he had just gone back to the hotel to sleep.

Some drunk guy who attached himself to us and said we should hang out with him because he is staying in the nicest hotel in Quebec and girls love that. We had no interest and moved on. We saw some blood on the ground as we walked and the night was coming to a close but since we were drunk we tried a bunch of strip clubs that were all closed for the evening as we stammered back to the hotel. We made a pit stop at McDonalds for a drunken midnight burger and fries and landed back into the hotel for a good night’s sleep.