Navigating the Night: An Early Introduction to Darker Worlds
War doesn’t usually look the way you expect it to and doesn’t just occur on the 9-5 clock. Outbreaks are what we’re generally made privy to, but the underbelly never concedes to defeat. There will always be a new day to do battle.
Working professionally inside of institutional settings and out in the community doing crisis support work for many years taught me a lot about how individual criminals and organized gangs operate, but that wasn’t my first exposure.
In theory I knew about human and drug trafficking from television and movies.
When I lived in Europe I’d recognize openly occurring activities in certain cities that I visited but I didn’t understand what it looked like back home or what to do other than ignore it. At least not consciously. Reflection provides for revelation.
I got my first taste of the nightlife when I was just 15-years old. I’m not talking about the teenage party scene, I never really gravitated towards that. I’m referring to the grownup, bona-fide-doorman-and-velvet-rope-fronted-jazz-bar kind of experience.
I was visiting Montreal on my own that summer, staying with the daughter of my mother’s friend. She had been our neighbor when I was a young child and would babysit me and her brother Marc from time to time. Now at 23 Sandra and her roommate Moira opened their apartment to host me on my adventure.
They were both artists and I loved their funky, colorful decor and the smells of books, art, and food that warmed their place. Sandra’s creative flair in the kitchen was inspired and so drastically different from anything I’d ever experienced before. This was what adulting as I imagined it would look like to me.
The apartment was a fabulous bright walk up in the Outremont neighborhood, where corner shops and cafes peppered shiny streets. The area was predominantly Hasidic so it was not uncommon to see families going about their daily routines in traditional garb.
While I mostly spent my visit sightseeing alone, one night Sandra invited me to join her and her friends for an evening on the town. There was a performer she was excited to see and I was eager to come along.
My trip to Montreal coincided with the internationally acclaimed Montreal Jazz Festival and the city was alive with culture. Being there felt like being on top of the world!
I was so nervous walking up to the line in front of the bar, but the boisterous group of 20-somethings kept me tucked in their middle and ushered me through without getting carded.
Down the steps and weaving through people in a cramped, dimly lit smokey basement bar, we arrived at a reserved table right in front of the stage and sat down. The chairs were big and upholstered in dark leather, configured in a circle surrounding the table.
When the waitress took our order I was too afraid of pressing my luck on the age thing so ordered a club soda with lime to seem mature. I’d seen someone order that in a movie once and figured it’d be safe. Truth be told, I didn’t even care for alcohol and preferred not feeling compelled to have a drink. Growing up, my father could rarely be caught without a beer in his hand and from an early age he’d let me sip from his bottles. I never understood why he liked it.
Overall the night was fabulous and I was newly hooked on live music and the scene.
Many afternoons I could be found writing or sketching from the terrace of a charming Greek restaurant a few blocks away from Sandra’s apartment, people watching and taking it all in. They had a great lunch menu and ice cream counter and it quickly became my go-to spot.
Tony was the owners’ son who worked there. He was a few years older than me and we had great conversations when business was slow. One afternoon he invited me to join him and some friends that evening to go clubbing. That exciting invitation was my second opportunity to experience the nightlife with locals and would ultimately lead me to my new chapter of life, guided by a sense of prescience.
I learned so much about what life outside my parents’ home could look like that summer and couldn’t wait to get on with it. Though I was technically well cared for in terms of having a roof over my head and food in my mouth with my parents, what I didn’t have and craved more than anything was peace in coexistence. I knew I would find it in Montreal.
Enthusiastic about the prospect of relocating there, my new friends helped me figure out all the logistics. Quebec had a unique public school system with a type of postsecondary education institution called CEGEP. Transferring to their system would mean I could attend a 3-year Theater Arts program after tenth grade at Dawson College which was super appealing to me.
My transition to Montreal didn’t go quite as smoothly as we’d envisioned but after unenrolling myself from Northwestern High School in Adelphi, Maryland in 1992, I bought myself a one-way bus ticket and didn’t look back.
It’s worth noting that winter in Montreal is very different from summer, and that vacations are rarely indicative of normal life anywhere. Like the difference between highlight reels and raw footage. Both things can be true, yet at the same time fundamentally different.
It wasn’t possible for me to get into school midway through the year so I’d have to wait until spring to apply for the following fall. Luckily, what I did have right away on arrival was a friend group and that meant the world to me.
Nectar, Tony’s cousin, helped me find an apartment and get a job in the kitchen at the McDonald’s she managed. Being a high school dropout at 16 actually wound up being less of a barrier to employment than not speaking French was, so kitchen work seemed to be the best I could do until I learned French fluently and got back into school for a vocation.
I adjusted to my new life and developed routines pretty quickly, especially enjoying weekend outings going dancing with friends. Ozone was by far our favorite club.
One of the most iconic nightclubs in Montreal during the early 1990s, Ozone was known for its cutting-edge sound system, impressive lighting displays, and its role in promoting electronic dance music (EDM) and rave culture in the city.
The club hosted a variety of events and featured performances by both local and international DJs, playing a significant role in shaping the nightlife scene in Montreal during this era and was a key venue for the burgeoning rave movement in Canada.
The energy there was incredible and I got to know many of the staff. One night their coat check attendant didn’t show and I offered to hop into the booth. I was hired on the spot. That was my gateway into the nightclub industry, from which I accrued many hours slinging drinks and delighting customers as a shooter girl, cocktail waitress, and bartender at many hot Montreal bars and clubs.
It was a wild time and I learned a lot about life very fast.
My routine in the bar scene generally had me waking up around 4:00 in the afternoon and often heading to bed around dawn, sometimes later depending on what we did after work. Normal bars and clubs shut down at 3 am and it was pretty common to head to Chinatown or Dunn’s for breakfast after clocking out, then into “the village” on weekends, where dancing continued until 10 am.
Illegal activities regularly occurred around me in those days but I never got caught up in any of the trouble that plagues so many people in that life. Even at work I made a habit of keeping a water-filled vodka bottle for myself on my bar rail, as drinking and partying with customers was customarily expected of the help.
Many people I regularly associated with dealt drugs and some of my “regular” and favorite customers were upwardly involved in nefarious affairs. Nonetheless, I kept my nose clean, never really curious to experiment with chemicals or illicit affairs. In fact, despite being well aware of goings on I generally felt quite safe in the city. I knew who ran things and understood their codes. I didn’t get involved in things that didn’t concern me and had a relatively healthy life.
Over the years between my entry into the nightclub scene and becoming a Correctional Officer in 2010, I periodically took jobs in restaurants, hotels, and bars and was expose to plenty of unsavory activities that were often less overt than they’d been in Montreal. I also performed extensive crisis support and outreach work, serving people considered both victim and perpetrator within marginalized and conventional communities.
“On the inside” as institutional residency is often referred to, I became further acquainted with antisocial behaviors and norms that were unfamiliar to me living within mainstream society.
Since then it’s become increasingly impossible for me to not recognize gang activity when I’m around it on the outside, within any community. I ignore it the best I can. Or at least, that’s what I have done.
This past summer I hit an all time emotional low when witnessing multiple incidents of young children actively in danger and felt completely impotent to respond. I was in a plaza teeming with gangs and just couldn’t contain myself. I no longer carry a badge or have any authority to phone anything in. That had already been made clear to me last year in Florida. So I confronted it. I spoke up, at, and directly to the people I witnessed in the acts.
That was a mistake. Sort of.
It wasn’t long before my vehicle was surrounded by police officers from a variety of jurisdictions. Apparently someone did make a phone call, claiming that I was a threat and had a riffle.
Obviously this was untrue.
Nonetheless, as the supposed bad guy I got to experience the consequences of my actions and I got wiser to this life through it.
Something I’ve come to realize over my lifetime is that every mistake I make leads me deeper into the depths of discovery of my truest worth and knowledge of divinity. From that I find inspiration to progress.
All pain is a gift.
All experience is information.
As long as one remains in sober spirits, everything can be overcome and achieved.
As we better understand how to navigate the wars we wage within each of our selves, the wars waged within our greater societies will begin making sense.
As we seek to communicate, coordinate, and collaborate with others from a deepened place of understanding, we are collectively better equipped to undo systemic damage that’s already been done for future generations.
What an exciting and exacerbating time it is to be alive.