Before I tell you about the amazingness of Montreal and how I want to live here forever and ever (or at least a few months) and yes I am aware how often I say this…I have to share a story with you.

A few years ago when I first moved to St. John’s, I had this problem where after a few drinks, I started sleepwalking. I’d wake up in an entirely different place than where I fell asleep, wrapped in one of my roommate’s blankets, with no recollection of how I got there. This happened a few times, and then I assumed it stopped.

But Saturday night, I went out on the town with Cailin and her friend Kendra. We had a ridiculously fun time bar hopping on Crescent Street and St. Laurent, and then Cailin and I headed back to our hotel.

Fast forward a few hours where I’m suddenly snapped awake standing outside my hotel room in my itty-bitty pajamas. The door is locked. Cailin is passed out hardcore, and I have no idea how to get back in.

I’m panicking, no idea what to do. We’re staying at the freaking Omni, where guests do not exactly laugh about this kind of behaviour. I debate taking the elevator to the lobby, and then opt for the stairs because I figure there is less chance of me running into someone. Except we’re on the 19th floor, and about one floor down, I give up.

At that point I was tempted to sit outside the room and wait for daylight. And then I spotted the phone in the lobby, called the front desk, and someone came to let me in. I fumbled through some half-assed explanation about why I was standing in the hallway practically naked, but dude didn’t say a word. Ah, c’est la vie.

New traveller threat, perhaps? Hotel sleepwalking? Oy.