Once upon a time not too long ago, Montreal lost the Grand Prix. For that one weekend in July, Crescent Street was devoid of crop tops, Prada sunglasses and moto-yobs. Globe and Bueno Notte lacked its requisite movie stars and hangers on; suddenly, there was no one to buy Grey Goose by the bottle. Coke dealers and call girls collectively frowned. Montreal, more than one newspaper columnist weeped, had really become a backwater–Fredericton-on-the-St-Lawrence, even.
If that yearly spectacle means we’re world class… well, we’re world class again. Or at least we will be in 2010. I am sweaty with anticipation.