Quebec City is for Lovers (who want to break up)

 We made the 2.5 hour drive from Montreal to Quebec City, and luckily Montreal's rudeness also extends to its drivers.  FUN!  We were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in a tunnel under the St. Lawrence Seaway, and this dickwad in a truck kept honking at us for being unable to phase shift through the traffic.  Once we were moving again, and upon discovering we were heading in opposite directions, we gave him the one sign more effective than the middle finger, the "you have a small penis" sign, perfected by my friend Ivana, and indicated by holding the thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.  Note--don't do this anywhere where you're likely to get shot, or if you're going to be continuing in the same direction, for the rage it induces is mighty.  (Mighty satisfying.)  You'll also be happy to know that I serenaded Lizzie with songs by every Canadian singer I know, including kd Lang, Celine Dion, Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, and most importantly, Bryan Adams.  She loved it, I'm sure.

Fun fact about Quebec City:  two couples I know, including my own parents, honeymooned here, and both couples ended up getting divorced.  Every time Lizzie and I saw young couples engaging in public displays of affection, we'd walk by and whisper "You're going to break up."  Ah, L'amour!  heh.

We wanted to walk to the old city for dinner, and stopped by this garden of hydrangeas, and then hoofed it up a huge fucking set of stairs.  Lizzie was super brave, as she's afraid of heights, and the stairs were rickety and the drop precipitous.  We made it to the top, though, and continued on our way, stopping only to note that the patriarchy is everywhere.

We walked for a very long time, and then stopped at a restaurant, where we waited at the hostess station, politely, like normal people, for about 5 minutes, to be sat.  This obnoxious group of four French Canadians shoved in front of us, and when the hostess came, tried to cut us off.  I channeled my fabulous Aunt Debbie, and said "No, we were here first." and he said, in French, "We have a reservation!" so I said "well it doesn't matter if you wait your turn, then, does it?"  He continued to ramble angrily at us, but I had just had enough with the rudeness, and collected the plastic swords from the bar that we armed our paper dolls with, in case I needed to poke someone's eye out.  Seriously, though, any Canadians in the house?  Can you tell me if everyone in Quebec is an insufferable asshole, or is the province just having a bad weekend?

Unrelated, did you know there is a Canadian Football league?  There is, and they have fierce names like the Edmonton Eskimos, the Hamilton Tiger-Cats, and the Montreal Alouettes.  An alouette is a lark, which is not a very fierce mascot, nor is it accurate.  They could be the Montreal jerkface magees.